Home
by kyliesmilie26
Summary: Thoughts on *that* moment and episode in Season 2. Now an AU for start of Season 3. (or possibly a filler for in-between S2 and 3) Need I say more? 9th chapter *finally* up. First DBM fic. :)
1. Chapter 1

**TITLE:** Home 1/?

 **AUTHOR:** Kylie (kyliesmilie26)

 **PAIRING:** Lucien and Jean

 **RATING:** T

 **SUMMARY:** Thoughts on _that_ moment and episode in Season 2. Told predominantly from Jean's POV. Could be a one-shot, but it could turn into a multi-chapter… I guess that'll be your decision. :)

 **NOTES:** This is my first fic in a good 2-3 years. My job in the real world, along with eye issues resulted in this rather long absence from fic writing. Also, I guess the muse has not been particularly motivated… until reading the small, but amazing _Doctor Blake Mysteries_ fanfic, and of course the show itself. It is simply one of the best shows currently in production and I'm proud to be from the country (and state) of its birth. Partially inspired by the recent fic from _**Crinklybrownleaves**_ based on the wonderful final scene of Season 2. The scene/episode itself no doubt also has played its part. ;) My thanks to you both xo

No doubt I'm not the first to write something on this episode!

Hope you enjoy. :)

* * *

 _ ***L &J***_

The phone's piercing shrill halted their movements; breaking the spell that had befallen them. "I'll get that," She murmured, gently and quickly entangling herself from his embrace to answer the telephone, both feeling relieved and annoyed, (not that she wanted to admit it to herself), at the interruption.

 _What had just happened?_

This was the phrase that was seemingly stuck on repeat in her mind. _That didn't just really happen, did it?_

Surely not?

* * *

 _ ***L &J***_

Jean's world had turned upside down in the last few days. Jack's return to Ballarat created a whirlwind of events and threw the Blake/Beazley/O'Brien household into a tailspin. It didn't start out badly, in fact quite the opposite – Jean was most proud of her youngest son winning the race around Lake Wendouree. Not to mention a little more than embarrassed when he had placed his medal around her. But it all changed seemingly instantly following the brutal murders of three members of the Dennison family.

Suspicion had soon turned to Jack when it was made known he was associated with two known criminals from up near Shepparton, and when the ute that was seen at their house the night prior was one and the same. Jean hated that her son found himself again in trouble with the law; it brought back too many raw memories of his troubles from ten years ago… and her guilt, did she do enough? She had tried her best to disregard her own misery and put everything she could into her boys, but was it enough?

Despite all her son's flaws, she knew he did not kill that family, it was not in him. And of course, her anger and maternal instincts kicked in when the harassing phone calls, and those drunken thugs came by the house. When one of her treasured pot plants was shattered on the front door she lost what remained of her composure and marched out the door in spite of Mattie's pleas.

"Excuse me, can I help you gentlemen?"

When she heard the word prick, her anger really flared. "I believe you are referring to my son, and I won't hear you speaking of him in that manner…"

His shove to the ground was unexpected, and it hurt. And not just her pride. She awkwardly landed on her right wrist, twisting it painfully. The fast forming gravel rash stung too. Not that she was going to let it show. Jean Beazley always maintained her pride and composure. Outwardly at least. She had become an expert at keeping her innermost feelings hidden.

First Mattie, then Lucien jumped to her defence. _When had he arrived?_ She'd barely noticed the screeching tyres of the police car. But by the time she had got to her feet, the doctor was punching the lout quite forcefully. Jean was sure he would have rendered the other man unconscious had Charlie not intervened.

It didn't escape her notice that he had asked if she was alright almost instantaneously after being stopped by Charlie. Their friendship had deepened over the past few months, and she suddenly realised that she had come to depend on him as much as she knew he also depended on her. Jean had found herself as not only Lucien's go-to when a case had got him muddled, but she was also one of his closest confidantes. (And Lucien was even better than her at keeping his sleeve close to his chest. He guarded it fiercely, as if his very life depended on it) She rather liked that. Possibly more than she cared to admit.

She had insisted she was fine the moment he wanted to check her wrist, but once they were safely inside he all but demanded (albeit in a most gentle tone), that there would be no argument.

He proceeded to clean and bandage the nasty looking graze. She couldn't help but wince at times as he did so despite his best efforts not to hurt her. "I'm sorry did I hurt you?" She almost blushed at his concern, so touched she was by it. But as usual she brushed it off with a shrug.

When the discussion had again turned to Jack, she broke down, unable to keep her tears in check. Finding out she was going to be a grandmother only added to her frayed emotions. _Wretched things._ Jean all but pleaded with Lucien to believe her, that her boy was innocent, her eyes begging him to fix this mess.

She blushed profusely when she remembered leaning into his palm when he placed his hand onto her left cheek, said cheeks turning a deep red. His touch was both warm and soft. So soft. She wanted it to stay there forever, or at least for him to touch, caress her like that again… _where did that come from? And hadn't he just done that?_

Yes, he had. Jean thought, still standing by the relatively safe spot at the telephone, blushing for the second time in moments. _It was a little more than just a tender caress this time._ She turned even more scarlet as that thought came to her, absently staring at the phone. She really should go and tell Lucien that he was needed by one of his patients at their home (and not by the police for just this once), but could not get her feet to move. Couldn't get her mouth to work either for that matter.

She needed to get her act together. She could not stand there like some fool all day. Yet, her stubborn conscious refused to cooperate, her equally deceiving mind kept going back to what had happened in the sunroom seemingly seconds ago, leaving her stood still.

"Are you okay Jean?"

Mattie's voice startled her from her chaotic inner musings. She stared at her young friend, trying to get her brain to formulate something that wouldn't cause her clever Mattie to question her further.

She eventually nodded. "I'm fine Mattie."

Mattie looked at her suspiciously. "Are you sure? You look as if you've seen a ghost."

Jean nodded again. "Yes, I'm fine. Really." She paused for a moment, and sighed as she sat down on one of the chairs at the kitchen table. "It's just been a hell of a day."

Mattie nodded sympathetically. "It sure has." She agreed, feeling for her good friend. "Do you want a cup of tea?"

"Yes, that'll be lovely."

Mattie filled up the electric kettle and waited for it to boil, preparing a cup for them both in the meantime.

She then sat a cup in front of Jean, and sat down opposite her. Jean, for her part, was in no mood to talk. She wasn't ready. Not yet. She kept her eyes fixed on the cup, praying that Mattie would leave her alone.

She then realised she had something that would get Mattie to go, at least for a minute or two. "Mattie, could you go and tell Lucien that Agnes Clasby has requested a home visit?"

Mattie knew when she was being dismissed. "Sure, where is he?"

"In the sunroom – I think." Jean hadn't seen, nor heard him since she left him to answer the telephone minutes before.

Mattie stared at her, an odd, puzzled look forming on her pretty, young face. She hadn't seen Jean like this since… well since the whole Robert thing earlier this year. She then got up and headed off to look for Lucien.

Jean breathed a sigh of relief, and stood up, glancing at the direction Mattie had gone. She picked up her cup and wasted no time in heading to the safe sanctuary of her room.

* * *

 _ ***L &J***_

Mattie found Lucien in the sunroom, just where Jean said he would be. He too, had the same confused, faraway expression on his face that she saw moments ago on Jean – the only difference being she had had clear evidence of tears – red, puffy eyes, tearstains still visible on her cheeks. Her heart again ached for her friend. His eyes showed a small glimpse of hurt too, or was that her imagination? What on earth had gone on here? They hadn't acted on their obvious feelings for one another, had they?

She cleared her throat, not wanting to startle the doctor like she had with Jean. "Lucien?"

He turned towards her, and she fleetingly saw what looked like disappointment cross his handsome features.

"You're wanted at Mrs Clasby's house." She informed him.

He stared at her as if she had grown an extra head.

She sighed, "Lucien?"

He shook himself out of his reverie. "Ah, yes… yes of course. Mrs Clasby, right." He answered finally, somewhat shakily, before beginning to regather himself. "Best not keep the dear lady waiting."

Mattie shook her head in amazement. "Something happened in this room between those two and I will get to the bottom of this."

 **TBC?**

 **Thanks for reading. Thoughts? :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**TITLE:** Home 2/?

 **AUTHOR:** Kylie (kyliesmilie26)

 **SUMMARY:** See Chapter 1

 **NOTES:** I didn't initially think I was going to really focus on Lucien's POV too much in this fic… but the muse had other plans. Well and truly. Hopefully I capture Lucien's thoughts okay. May have gone slightly overboard perhaps? You be the judge?

And a big thank you to all who took the time to read and/or leave a review on my first attempt at a DBM fic. I was rather nervous posting it, but it seems I needn't have been too concerned. The feedback has blown me away, and I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing it. :)

Thank you, it means so much – and certainly helped inspire the muse to keep this going so quickly. I'm thinking probably 3 or 4 chapters at this stage. :)

* * *

 _ ***L &J***_

 _Oh why did that bloody phone have to go and ring?_ Lucien Blake mused, sighing sadly as he discreetly watched his good friend and housekeeper Jean Beazley walk, scratch that, almost run to answer the blasted telephone. It was almost as if she couldn't get away fast enough… _well I guess neither of us were expecting that to happen…_

Knowing Jean like he did he assumed she needed time to gather both her thoughts and composure. Jean Beazley was a very proud, proper woman who very rarely let herself become overwrought. He had seen the person, who in the past year had become his closest friend and confidante ( _and something more?)_ cry more in the past two days than he had in the entire time he had known her. He felt a sudden flash of rage run through him; _Jack Beazley had a lot to answer for._ Lucien thought grimly, turning to face the back garden – one of the many things his dear Jean tended to in her caring, and concerted manner. He paused mid-thought – _his dear Jean, where had that come from? And did that really just happen?_

* * *

 _ ***L &J***_

His precious friend and housekeeper had been through so much of late. First Father Morton was murdered about two weeks ago, which had been bad enough in itself, and then all the suspicion and subsequent abuse and harassment following Jack's possible involvement in the Dennison murders had gone from bad to worse.

 _His arrival should have brought her nothing but laughter and happiness._ And it had, for a very fleeting moment. Jean had been so proud of her boy when he won the Dennison Gift, once she had overcome her initial shock in seeing him. In how long Lucien didn't know.

"There's a lot you don't know." Yes, she was right – as usual. Despite how close their friendship had developed over the past year, and the last few months especially, there was so much he didn't have a clue about when it came to his Jean. She kept her cards close to her chest. Then again, so did he. Who was he to judge?

He had hated the sad, tense, worried look in her eye as she dished out dinner the night before. He had hated the ensuing conversation even less. He never liked arguing with Jean, the quick-witted banter he was often on the receiving end from her sharp, clever tongue sure – not the heated discussion that caused her so much pain. That was completely different.

Lucien may not have known her inside and out, but he did know that she cried deeply later that night. He couldn't help but hear her wretched sobs from his bedroom. His heart ached to go and comfort her, but he knew that this would not be welcomed. That said, he had been too close to opening his door on several occasions in the thirty minutes she had been there. He was relieved when he heard Mattie come in, Jean needed her shoulder at the moment, not his.

When he saw the newspaper article in today's edition of The Courier his heart sank and his nerves escalated. "Oh Good god," hardly covered the depth of his whirlwind of feelings. Anger, worry, panic, fear, dread – none good - at just what Jean would be going through on her own in the house… well maybe not on her own depending on what Mattie's schedule was, while he was stuck here at the station. He honestly couldn't have cared less if Charlie went with him or not, but in hindsight having the security of the police uniform helped deescalate the chaos much sooner than what he could've alone. (Knowing him, he would have only made things so much worse instead of better.)

What he witnessed made his heart stop, and see red. The police car pulled up just as some large lout shoved Jean (his dear, sweet Jean), so forcefully the momentum drove her to the ground within seconds. He had the door open almost before Charlie managed to bring the car to a stop.

"How dare you!? You pathetic lot!" He yelled, and this was something that didn't happen too often with the normally composed and well-mannered doctor, as he marched towards the offending man. "Taking it out on the women is that the idea?"

Lucien was acting on nothing more than pure instinct and rage, and this only flared further when he saw Jean get helped to her feet by Mattie, delicately holding her right wrist. "Bloody coward!" He sent a quick and silent prayer to a deity he didn't believe in for the fact that Charlie was here, standing only a few steps behind him. "You got a problem with this Charlie?" He asked, rolling up his sleeves – he had already taken off the jacket of his suit.

Seconds after Charlie's affirmative response he threw his first punch at the other man. And he was a fair size too, quite a lot bigger than Lucien in both height and bulk… not that that was going to deter him. The hooligan had hurt his Jean, and he was going to pay.

"Doc? Doc! That's enough." If he hadn't heard Charlie, he would have quite possibly killed the man for laying a hand on the best thing that had happened to him in quite some time. "I think he's had enough."

"Go home you lot." Oh, still his stubborn, independent and at times bloody obstinate, Jean. She probably would refuse treatment on her injured wrist, (he suspected she had sprained it at the very least, she had landed hard on the ground), but he was going to look at it. He was her doctor after all. Well, that was his excuse anyway.

He did notice her wince as he gently cleaned the graze. It had to hurt, applying antiseptic on a fresh wound was anything but pleasant. Lucien couldn't help but apologise and ask if she was alright, but typical Jean shrugged him off.

She couldn't merely shirk away her emotions when he told her the latest. That her youngest child had no alibi for the Dennison murders, and was an expectant father to boot. The strain of the last thirty six hours was clear to anyone who happened to be looking at his housekeeper at this second. He couldn't help himself, he had to comfort her.

He softly touched her left, tear-stained cheek, hoping it would soothe her tattered nerves. His heart went a little faster as she almost imperceptibly leaned into his touch, her blue-green eyes portraying a myriad of emotions. Did she want him to tell her that it was all going to be alright, that her son would be cleared? Perhaps even tell her who really did it so she could just carry on as if nothing had happened? _Oh Jean._ He inwardly sighed.

Were his growing feelings, (that he did not yet fully understand or realise), for her becoming obvious even to that foolish boy of hers? Apparently so given the younger man's words to him outside the station were any indicator. "She has you now."

Thinking of how Jack had simply just up and left without even saying goodbye to his mother made his blood boil yet again. He was so different to Jean, and as much as he didn't want to, he found he didn't like her son very much for how he treated his own mother.

* * *

 _ ***L &J***_

Lucien found Jean tending to one of her many plants in the sunroom, as Mattie had suggested. He was once again amazed at her inner strength, going about her everyday work as if her son hadn't turned her world upside down within the last few days. _How much of it was just a front? Bravado?_ He wasn't sure, but he suspected Jean was doing what she always did in a crisis, just get on with things as she only knew how, and in doing so the problem would sort itself out.

Lucien observed her silently for a moment before quietly making his presence known to her…

"Lucien?"

Startled, he turned towards Mattie, who had a mixture of concern and perplexment adorning her features.

"You're wanted at Mrs Clasby's house." She informed him.

He stared at her as if she had grown an extra head. _Mrs Clasby? Since when did Agnes Clasby want a home consult?_

Mattie sighed, interrupting his thoughts. "Lucien?"

Lucien shook himself out of his reverie. "Ah, yes… yes of course. Mrs Clasby, right." He answered finally, somewhat shakily, before beginning to regather himself. "Best not keep the dear lady waiting."

He proceeded to finally leave the sunroom, where there were so many different emotions and thoughts continuing to occupy his brilliant mind. But not without some trepidation, just what on earth would he say to Jean? What would she say to him?

Despite it all Lucien had to chuckle to himself as he heard Mattie mutter something that sounded like _"getting to the bottom of it"_ to herself as he left.

Lucien was about to grab his fedora and jacket when something caught his eye. He stared in shock at the sight before him…

 _ **TBC…**_

 **Thanks for reading. Thoughts?**


	3. Chapter 3

**TITLE:** Home 3/?

 **AUTHOR:** Kylie (kyliesmilie26)

 **SUMMARY:** See Chapter 1

 **NOTES:** Again my sincere thanks to all who are taking the time to read and/or leave a review on my first attempt at a DBM fic. The feedback continues to blow me away, and I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing it. But I don't know about this one… I'm not over happy with it…

Thank you guys, it means so much – and certainly helped inspire the muse to keep this going. And it's definitely going for at least one more chapter after this… it appears as if my Muse isn't very concise… ;)

Special shout out to guest reviewer _coachsone_ – thank you!

Read on, and enjoy.

* * *

 _ ***L &J***_

 _ **Previously on Home…**_

 _He proceeded to finally leave the sunroom, where there were so many different emotions and thoughts continuing to occupy his brilliant mind. But not without some trepidation, just what on earth would he say to Jean? What would she say to him?_

 _Despite it all Lucien had to chuckle to himself as he heard Mattie mutter something that sounded like "getting to the bottom of it" to herself as he left._

 _Lucien was about to grab his fedora and jacket when something caught his eye. He stared in shock at the sight before him…_

* * *

 _ ***L &J***_

Jean was sitting on one of the stairs, appearing to be absolutely fascinated by something seen only to her, but was invisible to him, on the wall. There were tiny shattered pieces of fine china scattered on several steps that led up to the second floor of the house. For the umpteenth time in only numerous hours his heart ached for the woman in front of him, with both sympathy and a growing apprehension. _Oh dear, sweet Jean._

A pang of guilt fleetingly ran through him as he remembered why he had his keys in his hands. Agnes Clasby. He was supposed to be going around to see her for a home visit. She could wait just a little longer, he mused, the fact that Jean hadn't realised he was there yet was slightly alarming. Lucien glanced at his wristwatch. He supposed he'd been there a good minute or two, possibly more.

"Jean." He called out, his tone soft and gentle; he didn't want to startle her, not when there was a risk she could hurt herself on one of the chipped edges of what had been a perfectly good teacup. She'd been hurt enough for one day. Her sprained wrist, complete with a decent gravel rash, was too much as far as he was concerned.

She didn't reply, merely continued to stare absently at the wall. Her lack of response only increased his growing anxiety; his medically inclined brain racking for possible explanations for her behaviour. He had hardly ever seen Jean so still in the time he had known her. Something was wrong… he was sure of it.

 _Pull yourself together Blake._ He inwardly admonished, _don't go jumping to any silly conclusions._ "Jean." Lucien tried again, his voice a fraction louder than before, as he gently placed a hand onto her shoulder. "Is everything alright?" _Stupid question._

This seemed to bring her back to the here and now. Her eyes, always so full of expression, bar the last few minutes, blinked.

The doctor let out the breath he had been subconsciously holding. After a few moments, Jean turned towards the voice she had heard. "Lucien…" His housekeeper looked tentative, uncertain, but alert which further eased his nerves. Her almost intense gaze into his eyes, however increased his heart rate.

"Are you alright?"

Lucien could see her regather her composure. "Yes, I'm fine." He saw her eyes focus to what remained of the broken teacup around her. "Oh I've made a bit of a mess here haven't I? I'll clean it up." She attempted to get to her feet, but Lucien quickly stopped her by again putting his hand on her shoulder. He made a halting gesture with his other hand.

"Not just yet Jean. I need to check you haven't cut yourself."

"I'm fine Lucien." She replied, embarrassed at her own stupidity. How could she have been so clumsy? So careless? She wasn't sure if she was now referring to the broken cup, or the fact she had been reckless enough to give into…

"That may be so," His voice broke into her thoughts, "but do let me, won't you?"

Jean caught the pleading look in his blue eyes. She didn't think she'd ever seen such a clear, vibrant blue before… _oh do stop daydreaming about his eyes…_

She sighed in resignation. "Oh alright. I'm sure you're wasting your time though doctor."

Lucien chuckled at this and shook his head in amusement. _As independent as ever. What on earth was I so worried about? You fool Lucien._ "No doubt I am." He agreed, as he offered his hand to help her up.

Jean stared at the proffered hand, hesitant. Lucien for his part, observed her silently; he could practically see the wheels turning in her head.

 _Oh come on Jean it's just a hand for goodness sake! But it's his hand… Who cares? You were in his arms half an hour ago, you can hold his bloody hand! And he is only doing so to help you up. Don't be ridiculous about something so silly!_

Before she could change her mind, she put her smaller hand in his so he could help her to her feet, refusing to look him in the eye. It also hadn't escaped her attention that he had made sure that she would have no choice but to use her left hand. She was again touched by, and admired his thoughtfulness.

Jean didn't want to think about the fact he was holding her hand, and she definitely did not want to think about how good it felt…

Lucien made sure that she didn't do any more damage to her injured wrist, placing his hands in such a way so her right wrist was not put under any unnecessary pressure as he guided her into a standing position.

Suddenly she felt rather light-headed and her legs gave out on her…

He noticed her body sway a touch, "Jean!?" Lucien exclaimed in alarm; his hold of her instinctively tightening in response. She hadn't fainted, had she?

"I'm alright Lucien." Jean mumbled from somewhere within his chest. "I lost my balance that's all."

"Are you sure?"

Jean dared a glance up in his direction; feeling a strong sense of déjà vu. "Yes, I got up too quickly. Honestly Lucien I'm fine."

Lucien smiled despite himself. "Well alright."

Jean couldn't help herself, his cheeky smile was infectious and she found herself smile back as she nodded. "I should clean this up."

The doctor shook his head. "No," He saw Jean begin to protest and quickly continued, "You need to rest, and have something to eat." Lucien highly doubted that Jean had taken proper care of herself during her son's temporary incarceration. "Doctor's orders. Mattie and I will clear this lot."

They stared at each other for what seemed an age; a myriad of emotions - anticipation, fear, nervousness, excitement, will it happen again? - running through both, and both completely unaware that their thoughts were mirroring the other.

"Mattie will clear this lot."

Their lodger's voice startled them. Lucien suddenly remembered Jean refer to Mattie as _their_ lodger to Jack several days ago before this whole bloody fiasco had started. He smiled almost stupidly at that.

Mattie had been standing there, watching them in both bewilderment and amazement. Moments later, a knowing grin enlightened her face.

"Mattie?" Jean asked, even more embarrassed now than she had been earlier as she wondered how long the younger woman had been standing there.

"In case you've forgotten Doctor Blake, you have an appointment with Agnes Clasby." Mattie reminded him, her tone a blend of mild annoyance and bemusement.

"Bloody hell!" Lucien exclaimed.

Despite her embarrassment Jean couldn't help but laugh. "You better hurry doctor, she'll be far from impressed as it is!"

* * *

 _ ***L &J***_

Jean sat on her well-loved sitting chair in her bedroom; a fresh cup of tea nursed in her hands. Lucien was adamant she should rest, i.e. actually _sleep_ , but no way known was that going to happen. She was far from being a young child who needed a daily nap during the day, and by the same token nor was she in her more autumn years of life yet either.

While she refused to sleep, (even though she knew she was tired, almost verging on exhaustion), neither Lucien or Mattie allowed her to clean up her mess, insisting that she should relax. So much so, Lucien had practically forced her hand, giving her the rest of the day off as it were. Mattie was no help, gladly informing them both that she could take care of the essential tasks and that Jean wasn't to worry about anything, or lift a finger.

 _It's all well and good Mattie telling me not to worry._ She sighed wearily. _There is way too much going on in here…_ Jean's uninjured hand subconsciously went to her forehead, massaging it gently – she was feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on.

She was utterly lost; she so wanted to do something; anything rather than just sit here with nothing to occupy her but her chaotic inner ramblings. Jean Beazley was not a woman who enjoyed lazing about, not even when she wasn't feeling her best. Nonetheless, she looked at her bed, which was – loathed as she was to admit it – very inviting in her current state.

Try as she might her betraying, uncooperative thoughts kept going back to earlier that afternoon. It was seemingly all Jean could think about. Part of her felt guilty; she should be thinking more about the fact her youngest son just left… possibly for good. That thought made her depressed. Her eyes welled yet again; it seemed she was doing nothing but cry today.

This wasn't helping her headache. She wanted her thoughts to drift back to… ugh, did she really just have that pop into her conscious? After all, it was essentially because of Jack that she had been in his arms in the first place…

* * *

 ***L &J***

Lucien found Jean tending to one of her many plants in the sunroom, as Mattie had suggested upon his arrival after the Dennison murders had been solved and put to rest.

After the hectic and tumultuous events of the last thirty-six hours Jean had needed to do something she not only had to do as part of her role as housekeeper, but something she also loved. It was what she did in any sort of crisis, particularly around matters of the heart; going about her everyday work as if her son hadn't turned her world upside down within the last few days.

Unbeknownst to Jean, Lucien observed her silently for a moment before quietly making his presence known to her…

"Jean."

Jean looked up, somewhat surprised. "Lucien," She said, unable not to offer him a smile, "I should make you something to eat."

He brushed her off, "No, no no."

"Jack's gone then eh?"

So, he'd obviously been speaking to Mattie. "Yes."

"He'll come back."

Jean turned around, having finished what she needed to do for that plant. _I doubt it._ She discovered that Lucien had his back to her."No I'm not so sure about that."

Everything Lucien said in the next minute made her feel a whirlwind of emotions, ranging from surprise to sadness to, dare she say it, loved? Somewhere deep, deep, inside her she knew what she felt for the man in front of her – however she couldn't go there… not yet. She couldn't betray her dear Christopher…

Yet hadn't she by what they had done?

She was listening intently to his every word; she couldn't believe how incredibly poignant he was at this moment. Yes, he was trying to make her feel better she could see that, but she could also tell that he believed every word. It made her feel… special… yes, that's what it was; he was being so supportive.

"We can never give up on them, can we? They'll always be our children." The use of the pronoun _'our'_ did not escape her notice. His words had left her speechless.

He had turned to face her now. "And when he does decide to come back… well, he'll always be welcome here."

She looked at him in amazement. "But this isn't his home Lucien."

"It's your home Jean." Was Lucien getting emotional? It looked like it. _Don't please Lucien… I'll cry…_

"This is your home, and that means it's his home too." He put his hand on her arm to comfort her as she felt the tears begin to fall…

Something brought Jean back from her musings. She wasn't sure what, but her eyes drifted back to her bed once again. Maybe her shattered body was trying to tell her something…

With a sigh, she sat down the empty cup on the tray and placed it on her dressing table. Proper or no, she pulled back her duvet and blankets, and slipped into bed fully clothed.

* * *

 ***L &J***

Lucien arrived home from his home consult with Agnes. The woman drove him mad, and today was no exception, but she was a dear old thing really. He put his fedora on the hatstand, and shrugged off his suit jacket.

As he walked down the hall, his eyes instinctively looked in the direction of the stairs. He stood at the bottom of said stairs in deep thought, toying with whether or not to go up, just to check that she'd had no more dizzy spells. _Keep telling yourself that Lucien._

Possibly against his better judgement, he climbed the staircase, pausing at the landing. His focus turned to Jean's closed bedroom door, and his feet headed towards her door on autopilot.

At her door, he dithered for a good minute or two, again deliberating on whether to disturb her, before knocking on her door…

 **TBC…**


	4. Chapter 4

**TITLE:** Home 4/?

 **AUTHOR:** Kylie (kyliesmilie26)

 **SUMMARY:** See Chapter 1

 **NOTES:** Back to a look in on Lucien's side of things in this chapter. You could call this now officially an AU story… you'll soon see why… ;)

Again my sincere thanks to all who are taking the time to read and/or leave a review on my first attempt at a DBM fic. The feedback continues to blow me away, and I hope you continue to enjoy this as much as I did writing it. I'm absolutely amazed at the sheer number of views this little story is getting, thank you! Welcome to my new readers too!

All the feedback means so much – and is feeding the most greedy muse to keep this going at this fast pace. And there's at least one more chapter after this… it appears as if my Muse does not want to let this story go in a hurry… ;)

Read on, and enjoy.

* * *

 _ ***L &J***_

 _ **Previously on Home…**_

 _As he walked down the hall, his eyes instinctively looked in the direction of the stairs. He stood at the bottom of said stairs in deep thought, toying with whether or not to go up, just to check that she'd had no more dizzy spells. Keep telling yourself that Lucien._

 _Possibly against his better judgement, he climbed the staircase, pausing at the landing. His focus turned to Jean's closed bedroom door, and his feet headed towards her door on autopilot._

 _At her door, he dithered for a good minute or two, again deliberating on whether to disturb her, before knocking on her door…_

* * *

 _ ***L &J***_

There was no response. In fact, it was so quiet Lucien wasn't quite sure whether Jean was actually in there. Was she downstairs resting in the lounge or parlour? He hoped she wasn't do anything stupid like getting dinner ready or dusting furniture. He was suddenly reminded of the time he caught Jean dancing without abandon to _Stop Hanging on Me Baby_ – a song she vehemently declared her distaste for – several months ago. Lucien laughed at the memory.

It would not have surprised him in the slightest if she were up to something he had strictly told her not to do; but that young Matilda could be most bossy and stubborn in her own right when she wanted to be.

Perhaps she was asleep? He knocked again, this time calling her name.

Again, no response.

It couldn't hurt to open the door; just a crack could it? Just to check that she was asleep before heading back downstairs? _Dithering yet again Blake…_ He mused.

He finally allowed himself permission to open her bedroom door, feeling apprehensive for numerous reasons – the fact that this was the first time he had entered her bedroom, (her private space within the house), without her permission combined that with everything that had happened in the space of the last six hours the predominant ones.

The sight before him evoked a whirlwind of emotions in Lucien; his heart flipped, he grinned like a Cheshire cat and his brain could well have stopped working for all he knew. To top it all off, he damn well nearly went all school girl with an "aww." Jean was fast asleep in the fading light; curled up on her left side – her injured wrist laying protectively on the other pillow. She hadn't even changed into nightclothes he noticed; from what he could tell she still had on the same blouse.

Lucien didn't know how long he'd been standing there; complete with a stupid smile, in utter fascination at the beautiful woman sleeping in front of him. Yes, beautiful was the word, that realisation coming to him as fast as a bullet, it described Jean Beazley to perfection. He discovered that he really could watch her sleep all day and never get tired of it. How he so wanted to go and shift those dark curls away from her face. He craved it so badly it was almost palpable.

His conscience and sense of propriety began to win out over his newly discovered filled heart. It wasn't the thing to do, watching an unaware member of the opposite sex sleeping. In their bed. This was even more true when the said person you weren't even courting. (Although that could, possibly, maybe, all have changed after today?) It probably even verged on being voyeuristic. He sighed, not particularly wanting to leave his newly found favourite spot in the house, (and had he been quite this far into the room before?), but knowing he must before he got caught.

Lucien had only just turned around and taken no less than two steps when he froze at the sound of his name. His immediate thought was: _I've been_ _bloody busted_. He slowly turned to the direction of the voice, wondering how the hell he was going to explain this one away…

His panic disappeared as quickly as it came. Jean was still soundly asleep. Come to think of it, she had said it so faintly, he could have very well imagined it. Lucien smiled to himself and tiptoed out, closing the door as softly as he could.

* * *

 _ ***L &J***_

The doctor still had the goofiest of grins on his handsome face when he heard Mattie announce that dinner was ready. He looked up from his medical journal, "Wonderful, thank you Mattie."

"And just what are you smiling about Lucien?" Mattie asked, rather smugly.

"I don't know what you mean Mattie." Lucien quipped in reply. "I'll be there in two minutes." He said, trying unsuccessfully to shoo her away for a bit.

"Will Jean be joining us?"

Lucien did his best to keep his face neutral, but he suspected he failed miserably. "How should I know?"

Mattie smirked, "So you haven't been in to check on her then?" She asked demurely. If no one knew any better she could have looked like an innocent school girl.

He felt his cheeks redden and prayed that the young woman wouldn't notice.

"Lucien?"

She continued to stand there coyly. "Well, er… yes I might have." He revealed, someway embarrassed.

She grinned, "And?"

"And nothing. She was asleep so I didn't intrude. I left her to get her rest." _She must have needed it to effectively take a nap._ He suddenly pondered. It wasn't like her to sleep during the day. Hell, he'd be surprised if she didn't need much more sleep than he did given she was always up at the crack of dawn. He tried to brush off a sudden niggling doubt. _Stop being silly Doctor._

Mattie nodded, watching him closely as his features depicted a range of emotions. "Should we wake her for dinner?"

He shrugged, "She could already be awake, that was a good half hour or more ago."

"Right, did you want to go and let her know then Lucien, while I finish serving up?"

Lucien eyed her suspiciously. "Err… wouldn't it be better if you did?"

Mattie just looked at him.

He put his hands up in protest and stood up from behind his desk. "Fine, I'll go."

Mattie chuckled, "Ooh try not to sound so enthusiastic about it!" She teased, walking off towards the kitchen, leaving him to head back upstairs to tell her dinner was ready.

* * *

 _ ***L &J***_

Lucien found himself standing outside Jean's bedroom door for the second time in the last hour or so. He knocked, and in a repeat of last time, there was no reply from inside the room.

"Jean?" He called out, only a hint of tentativeness in his tone. "Can I come in?"

Again, like an hour before, nothing. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't concerned by this. He shook his head as if to delete the thought from his conscious. He opened the door, and assumed she was still asleep as the room was blanketed in darkness. As he allowed the door to open further, his suspicion proved correct; he could see enough through the hallway light to see her sleeping figure. A smile escaped as he stood there, subconsciously watching her yet again.

 _Oh heck._ He ruminated to himself, as he recognised this. He then abruptly became aware of a potential problem. _Should I wake her? Would it be appropriate for me to wake her?_ Lucien somehow suspected that it was.

The woman in question settled his internal debate for him as she stirred. "Lucien," Jean mumbled sleepily, as she stretched her limbs as is one's wont upon waking from slumber. "Is that you?"

Lucien nodded, "Yes, how are you feeling?"

"Fine, a bit tired, but fine. What time is it?" She asked, rubbing sleep out of her eyes.

"Time for dinner…" Jean threw him a look, "oh alright seven." He relented.

"Seven?" She asked in surprise, embarrassed, that she had slept for almost three hours, (and slightly annoyed with herself). "I didn't think I was asleep that long."

"Yes, well did you want dinner Mrs Sleepyhead?" He teased, smiling.

Jean shook her head, "No thanks, I'm not hungry."

Lucien frowned upon hearing this. "Are you sure?" He wondered if she had had anything to eat like he suggested… _Probably not._

"Mm hmm." She affirmed, yawning. "I might have something later."

Jean stared at him for a few moments, and saw the uneasy expression that adorned his features. "I'm fine Lucien," She reassured him, "You go and have something to eat."

Lucien didn't want to leave her up here on her own, but knew he was being foolish. Besides, he knew it was most improper to stay in a woman's bedroom for too long, especially when she was in her bed.

"Good night Jean, sleep well."

"Good night Lucien."

* * *

 _ ***L &J***_

Jean laid back wearily against the pillows. She hadn't exactly lied to Lucien; she wasn't particularly hungry and she was tired… she also hadn't told him the complete truth – she was feeling utterly exhausted and her headache hadn't eased, if anything it was worse than before. She could only hope the doctor hadn't seen through her relatively weak façade, he wasn't a doctor for nothing. He was a mighty fine one at that.

Part of her also just didn't feel up to facing them all at dinner. She wasn't up for the looks and questions of concern and sympathy being thrown her way. And she was loathed to admit it, but she was a big, fat, coward. She needed more time to think about all that had gone on today with her boss, and close friend. Was she ready for all this again?

Jean sighed, and settled back down under the covers and briefly contemplated getting changed into her pyjamas. As she drifted back into sleep – a smile creeping onto her face as her mind wandered back the sunroom – she decided she was far too comfortable where she was.

* * *

 _ ***L &J***_

Lucien and Mattie had eaten, cleared the table, and had washed and put away the dishes, and were currently relaxing in the loungeroom – Lucien reading the newspaper, and Mattie reading one of her novels. Some music was playing softly in the background, neither wanted to disturb a sleeping Jean upstairs.

"Is Jean alright Lucien?" Mattie asked.

Lucien looked up from his newspaper and offered her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "According to the good Mrs Beazley she's fine. I'm sure she is Mattie. She probably just needs a good night's rest."

Mattie nodded, returning his smile with a similar one. "You're probably right." She hesitated for a few seconds before adding, "It is unlike her to be in bed for so long."

The doctor gave a small sigh in agreement. "You are quite right, but then again it's been an emotional upheaval for her over the last two days. Even the unflappable Jean Beazley needs to recharge occasionally."

Mattie considered this. "Yeah, I'm worrying about nothing."

He forced a chuckle. _You and me both_.

* * *

 _ ***L &J***_

Sometime later that night Lucien was back in the office of his surgery. Try as he might to convince the perceptive, wise beyond her years Mattie that all was well with Jean, he himself wasn't so sure. He desperately hoped that he was overreacting; that a decent night's sleep was all she needed, but Lucien couldn't shake off a nagging doubt that there was more to it. Things just didn't add up, and the scientist and doctor within him had gathered enough evidence to suggest that something was wrong.

Was he overreacting because of his epiphany of the depth of his feelings for her? Because of what they had shared earlier that day? Well, technically now it was the day before, given it was now after midnight.

Despite all his growing worry and apprehension, he couldn't help but smile as his thoughts floated back to the sunroom…

* * *

 _ ***L &J***_

Unbeknownst to Jean, Lucien observed her silently for a moment before quietly making his presence known to her.

"Jean."

Jean looked up, somewhat surprised. "Lucien," She said, unable not to offer him a smile, "I should make you something to eat."

He brushed her off, _typical Jean – always thinking of others_. "No, no no."

Lucien turned to face the back garden, fully aware he wasn't doing so entirely just to admire Jean's handiwork… "Jack's gone then eh?" _Go straight in Lucien, why don't you?_

"Yes."

He had heard her turn around but remained immersed in the garden. "He'll come back."

"No, I'm not so sure about that."

Everything Lucien said in the next minute came from someplace he rarely dared himself to visit. Somewhere deep, deep, inside he knew what he felt for the amazing person – however he wasn't entirely sure he was ready to go there…

He could see that she was listening intently to his every word.

"We can never give up on them, can we? They'll always be our children." The use of the pronoun _'our'_ registered somewhere in his brain, but pushed it aside to continue what he had to say before he lost his nerve.

He gathered the courage to face her now. "And when he does decide to come back… well, he'll always be welcome here."

She looked at him in amazement. "But this isn't his home Lucien."

"It's your home Jean." As Lucien studied his housekeeper, watching her expressive eyes stare at him in wonder, he found himself becoming emotional.

His next words were laced with said emotion. "This is your home, and that means it's his home too." He put his hand on her arm to comfort her as he could see she was close to crying.

Seconds later the dam broke and she surprised him by reaching out to him as if she needed his comfort, turning to him. He didn't hesitate to pull her into his embrace, putting his arms around her decisively, yet tender, rubbing her back soothingly.

If he was surprised by her willingness to be in his arms, he was even more surprised by how tightly she was hanging on to him, and with that injured wrist. He could have chastised her about it, but for once that didn't matter, she was in his arms and that mattered more than an injury.

"It's alright." He soothed, continuing to massage her back softly. "It's alright." He repeated, as she continued to sob.

Lucien hadn't realised that while he was making every effort to comfort Jean, that in the process he had put his face so close to hers, so much so he could smell the shampoo in her hair, which smelt like a bouquet of flowers.

Suddenly he became aware that Jean had stopped crying and she had moved so she could look at him, her stunning blue-green eyes gazing at him in a way he hadn't seen before.

It was like time stood still, and he put his hands on her face almost brazenly, praying that he was reading that look in her eye correctly. At first, he thought he had misread her, as she instinctively went to pull his hands away. But then her eyes focused on his right hand, noticing the graze on his knuckles for the first time.

With complete wonder and astonishment, he watched her first touch the admittedly sore spot with her finger, tracing it gently. Moments later she did something that surprised him even more, she brought his hand to her lips, and placed the most tender of kisses over each little graze.

Lucien was speechless, and his heart burst with something he wasn't quite ready to put a label on just yet. With his other hand, he lifted her face back up to meet his, and kissed her, first on her forehead, and then where the tracks of her tears had been (as if to give her one final chance to back away if she wanted) before finally kissing her on the lips. And by hell it felt absolutely incredible, this was something else entirely. Why on earth hadn't he taken the chance to kiss her before now? She had one hand threading through his hair, while the other was again around his back, while he had his hands where they'd been minutes earlier, holding her as close as he could to him…

The phone's piercing shrill halted their movements; breaking the spell that had befallen them. "I'll get that," She murmured, gently and quickly entangling herself from his embrace to answer the telephone, leaving him standing there both in shock and wonder.

 **TBC…**

 **A/N: Special shout out to** _ **HikerLady (formerly Hikertrash16)**_ **for allowing me to use her idea in one of our PM's about Jean kissing Lucien's sore knuckles – thank you, and I hope I did it justice.**

 **Thanks for reading. Thoughts?**


	5. Chapter 5

**TITLE:** Home 5/?

 **AUTHOR:** Kylie (kyliesmilie26)

 **SUMMARY:** See Chapter 1

 **NOTES:** Sorry for the delay in getting this update up. Two reasons – one, I finally have returned home after spending just over two months at my parents on sick leave. (it's a five hour drive), and also the muse hit its first major stumbling block on exactly where to take this little ditty…

I've managed to get some kind of a chapter for your reading/Doctor Blake, Lucien and Jean shipping pleasure.

Again my sincere thanks to all who are taking the time to read and/or leave a review on my first attempt at a DBM fic. The feedback continues to blow me away, and I hope you continue to enjoy this as much as I did writing it.

Not too sure how many chapters are left to close this one out.

Read on, and enjoy (I hope). :)

* * *

 _ ***L &J***_

 _The next day…_

Jean slowly opened her eyes as she began to stir from a deep, yet restless slumber. She instantly closed them again to block out the morning sunlight. When that didn't help as much as she would have liked, she pulled the covers over her head.

All she wanted was to go back to sleep… she didn't know how long she'd been asleep for, but she wanted the nirvana of darkness and to remain blissfully unaware. Anything to ease the pounding of her forehead; it felt like someone had either placed a large drum kit inside her skull or had attacked it with a blunt instrument. Several blunt instruments. Quite possibly both.

It hurt, and she felt bloody awful. Jean occasionally had the misfortune to suffer from migraine. Not that too many people knew that; it wasn't something she was proud of; especially the particularly nasty ones. And this one was one hell of a doozy. It just hurt. The sharp throbbing just made her want to curl up into a ball and cry. Somewhere registered that crying would be counter-intuitive, but at this point she didn't really care. It hurt, and didn't one cry when something hurt?

Jean knew what she should do; get up and close her curtains, find a damp facecloth, and rest it on her forehead, and lastly get some drugs into her. She wanted to call out to Lucien… but she strongly suspected her poor head could stand the unwelcome racket (and she didn't want him to see her like this; he'd seen enough of vulnerable Jean yesterday). By the same token, she didn't think that she would possibly be able to get out of bed to do what she needed to help ease her migraine. That thought made her stomach churn with queasiness.

All this thinking was too excruciating. Why couldn't she go back to sleep already? And she did not care if she sounded childish; she downright felt like one with all the throbbing in her head… she did not want to face the world until her world was right again.

Suddenly the damn phone rang. That was the last thing Jean needed. She could only hope someone answered it quickly; if anyone was home to pick up the phone at all…

What seemed like an eternity later, but in actuality only about a minute, the telephone finally stopped its loud, ear-splitting ring. She sent a prayer of thanks and felt her body relax a little as the dark tendrils of sleep called to her once again; both mind and body exhausted.

* * *

 _ ***L &J* **_

It was close to dinner time when Lucien arrived home. The phone had rang at a most ungodly hour; informing him that there was indeed yet another murder in the city of Ballarat, this time a young woman had been found brutally beaten and dumped in the outskirts of the town.

The poor woman's body had not been a pretty sight. Lucien put all his energy into determining how she had died, and why,

The how he had more or less figured out, the why was still a work in progress. While he initially found the inheritance of the police surgeon to be tedious; a role he had not one ounce of interest in, the sheer mystery of solving the 'whodunit?' soon thrilled him. He soon had become hooked; most likely because Lucien wanted something to distract him from the dark abyss of his life and its seemingly never ending problems. At least at first; eventually he found the courage to begin to face his many demons – which he believed had a lot to do with his close friend and housekeeper. His world was looking a lot more colourful, which again he had no doubt had plenty to do with Jean.

Now, Lucien reasoned that he just predominantly enjoyed helping the police solve the murders that seemed to continually pop up, the original reason for his extreme dedication to his role still lingered to some degree. He knew he became so absorbed in gallivanting after each mystery that he kind of forgot about those around him, often including his patients, and far too often for his liking, Jean, and to a smaller extent Mattie.

Lucien vowed to change this pattern in his behaviour. Starting now. The previous two cases having been close to Jean's heart for different reasons had gone a long way into this self-revelation.

This chain of thought naturally turned the heart of his attentions to Jean. Lucien would have much, much preferred to have spent his time here at the house rather than being called upon at the crack of dawn to chase the answers to this latest mystery.

The house was quiet. Too quiet? He knew Mattie had gone to visit her family in Melbourne for a few days. And given the time, he should have been able to smell the aroma of whatever Jean had planned for dinner cooking. This worried him; Jean was consistently reliable to a fault. On the other hand, Lucien considered that she'd been through emotional turmoil in the last little while, perhaps it had all gotten too much. That notion did nothing to ease his growing concern, particularly when he remembered her initial vagueness, soon followed by a near collapse on the stairs.

Where could she be? More importantly was she okay?

* * *

 _ ***L &J* **_

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Jean groaned. What on earth was that? It had only felt like she had just got to sleep when something had had the nerve to disturb her from her peaceful slumber.

She attempted to drift back into her blissful abyss but the loud banging noise continued relentlessly. "Jean?"

Whoever it was needed to go away. Whilst she felt completely and utterly miserable, she was happy enough where she was. Why did they feel the need to make her feel worse?

The commotion continued. "Jean, are you alright?" They were certainly persistent, she gave them that much.

What did they want? Jean groaned again, using her injured wrist to wearily massage her pounding, throbbing forehead. Could they give her a new skull perhaps?

From outside her bedroom door Lucien only grew more anxious with each moment. She may not have been in there, but he intuitively knew otherwise, and she was beginning to scare him.

He wondered what was stopping him from entering her room. Last night he hadn't waited as long on either occasion before encroaching upon her personal space. Maybe for some reason he needed her permission this time?

"Jean, are you alright?" He repeated, his fists now seriously aching from the continual beating on the door, his already sore knuckles not liking the added pressure.

This time he heard her. "I'm fine Lucien."

She did not sound fine. She had all but whined, and Jean Beazley did not whine.

"Can I come in?"

There was a pause and he heard her audibly moan. "If you must." She eventually replied. The fragility in her voice was alarming.

Again, feeling a rather strong sense of déjà vu, he opened her door and quietly walked inside. She was in bed, facing away from him with her eyes closed. It appeared as if she was concentrating hard on breathing evenly. Something was most certainly not right. He then noticed her curtains open – had they been left open last night?

"Good evening Jean."

 _Evening? It wasn't, was it? She couldn't have spent all day in bed could she?_

She tried to get her voice to sound somewhat normal. "What do you want Lucien?" Jean finally asked, her tone verging on impatient.

"Er, I just wanted to see how you were that's all." Lucien replied, "How are you?"

 _I feel awful. My head feels like it has a train speeding through it at a million miles an hour. Can you make it go away?_

"Jean?"

She groaned again, torn between wanting to tell him to leave her alone to suffer in silence (like she had done for years), and wanting him to make her feel better.

 _Tell me what's wrong Jean. Please?_ He turned on her bedroom light, wanting to see her properly.

This immediately caused Jean to moan, cover her eyes with one hand, then pull the blankets over her face. "Turn the light off, please?"

The doctor complied straightaway. "Oh, I'm sorry Jean." He walked over to her bed, proper or not. He gently eased the covers away from her face. _Oh, Jean._

"Tell me what's wrong Jean, please?" He voiced his earlier rumination, brushing some of her dark curls away from her closed eyes.

The soft, entreating tone in his voice, combined with his tender actions did her in; it tugged at her heartstrings. She opened her eyes and despite the excruciating, throbbing migraine she couldn't help but see the care and concern in his baby blue eyes.

"My head hurts." She finally whispered, as a few errant tears escaped from her eyes.

 _Oh, my dear Jean._ His heart ached at the vulnerability he both saw and heard. It was blatantly obvious she was in agony. Oh how he wished he hadn't got called into a case, he should have been here looking after his Jean. "Migraine?" It was more of a statement than a question as he placed a palm over her forehead.

"Mm hmm" She mumbled, leaning into his cool, soothing touch.

Whilst he didn't suffer from then personally, as a doctor he knew how badly they could affect someone who did when one struck. "For how long?" He asked, his palm making gentle motions to massage her forehead.

Jean shrugged. "Dunno." She intoned, her words blending together almost incoherently. "My head hurts."

Lucien's heart tugged wretchedly again. _My poor, sweet Jean._ "I know." He soothed. "Now let's see what we can do about it eh?"

* * *

 _ ***L &J* **_

Lucien woke rather suddenly, disoriented. He initially couldn't work out where he was, all he knew was that he was in a chair and both his neck and back ached.

He was surprised to see Jean, fast asleep, in front of him. What was she doing in his room? He pondered, still somewhat stupefied. Then it all came flooding back, he was in Jean's room, not his. The doctor had spent the night taking care of, and watching over his Jean. Lucien had done everything he had read on how to treat migraine symptoms. The first thing he had seen to was closing those curtains, migraine could last several days so he did not want her exposed to any unnecessary light. He fervently hoped that hers didn't last too long.

He had then gone to get the supplies he needed: some medicine, a jug of water, a glass. She was dozing when he returned and really did not have the heart to wake her, but he knew he had to; it was essential to get some aspirin into her to help alleviate the pain. "Jean," Lucien said softly, gently shaking her shoulder.

"Mmm." Jean mumbled, her eyes remaining stubbornly closed.

"I know you want to sleep Jean but I need you to sit up for a moment."

"Mmm… why?"

He smiled, "So you can have some aspirin."

Jean sighed, groaning. "Oh… alright. Just give me five minutes and I'll get there." She started to slowly sit up.

Lucien swiftly acted, setting down the glass and aspirin on her bedside table. "Here, let me help." He leaned down to help her into a sitting position. "You alright?"

"Yeah."

He handed her the glass. "Here, take two of these every six hours."

He watched her swallow the aspirin. She went to put down the glass. "No, finish it. It'll help." Lucien urged. He suspected she'd be also fairly dehydrated, which would be not helping her migraine.

"But I'm tired." She complained, wanting nothing more than to fall back into sleep.

Lucien sighed, "I know, but it won't take you too long to finish what's left." He paused, "Think of it this way, the sooner you finish it, the sooner you can rest your head on that pillow and sleep."

That did it, she quickly gulped down the remaining water, handing the empty glass back to him.

He smiled, watching her flop back down into a more comfortable position. "Good girl." Lucien quietly watched her for a little while, before heading into the bathroom to wet a facecloth. The coolness would also relieve some of her pain. He tiptoed into her room and explained that he was going to put the cloth over her forehead; he didn't want to startle her.

To his relief, Jean barely stirred as he tenderly placed the cloth on her forehead.

Lucien was brought back from his reverie by the woman at the centre of said reverie. Her blue eyes were not only open, but were candidly staring at him.

"Ah, you're awake. How are you feeling this morning?"

Jean hesitated for a moment, deliberating on his question. How did she feel? The migraine had by no means disappeared…

"A little better." She finally replied.

He wasn't completely convinced, but he'd let her off this hook – this time. "That's good." He poured her a glass of water. "Here."

She smiled, "Thanks." They both knew she wasn't only referring to the glass of water he'd just given her.

"Anytime."

They were interrupted by a knock at the door. "I better go and see who that is." Lucien said rather reluctantly. "I'll be right back."

"Don't worry about me."

Five minutes later he returned. "I'm terribly sorry Jean, but it would appear as if I'm needed." He looked at her, "Will you be alright?"

"I'll be fine, Lucien, you go."

"Alright, I'll be back as soon as I can. You concentrate on getting better."

"I've got no choice have I?"

He chuckled, "Doctor's orders."

* * *

 _ ***L &J***_

 _Several days later…_

Lucien sighed, watching her from a short distance. He didn't want her to be aware of his presence.

When had things changed? Where had it started to go wrong?

 _ **TBC…**_

 **A/N: Sorry… the muse seems to like a little angst…**

 **Thanks for reading. Thoughts? :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**TITLE:** Home 6/?

 **AUTHOR:** Kylie (kyliesmilie26)

 **SUMMARY:** See Chapter 1

 **NOTES:** Sorry for the delay in getting this update up. This is much more normal for the Muse…

Again my sincere thanks to all who are taking the time to read and/or leave a review on my first attempt at a DBM fic. The feedback continues to blow me away, and I hope you continue to enjoy this as much as I did writing it. Over 250 people reading this now! Wow, I cannot believe it! Thanks all!

Probably only one or two more chapters left on this little ditty.

I apologise on behalf of the Muse for yet more internal monologue and not much in the way of plot movement!

Read on, and enjoy (I hope).

 _ ***L &J***_

 _ **Previously on Home…**_

 _Several days later…_

Lucien sighed, watching her from a short distance. He didn't want her to be aware of his presence.

When had things changed? Where had it started to go wrong?

* * *

 _ ***L &J* **_

Was it when he had left to go and help with the continuing investigation into the young woman's murder? Lucien shelved this idea as quickly as it came to him. Jean had all but told him to go, and she knew better than anyone that he could be called upon at any hour of any given day with either of his roles. He was under no illusion that it probably annoyed her to no end at times, but she was both sensible and understanding enough to know it was just part of his life.

The doctor continued to watch her as discreetly as he could. There were a myriad of emotions, feelings and thoughts turning over in his mind, and the majority of them weren't good.

It was almost as if his closest friend, confidante, and housekeeper had changed her entire personality overnight. Jean could be a sharp-witted, even snarky customer at times, but it always came from a good place. But in the last few days she had snapped at almost anyone who dared to even talk to her. Her tongue acidic.

This alone worried him considerably, but the lingering effects of her migraine (as much as she tried to hide it), in addition to an increasing confusion concerned him even more.

Lucien reasoned her significantly increased irritability was down to Jean's sheer stubbornness to resume her duties as housekeeper three days earlier, when he knew she should have stayed in bed for at least another day. She had immediately dismissed his concerns when he had gently suggested this to her.

"What are you doing out of bed?" He had asked kindly, taking in her pale, exhausted features. Yes, she looked marginally better, but he could tell by her pinched cheeks and furrowed eyebrows that her migraine had not disappeared.

"Good morning to you too." Jean quipped in reply.

"Morning Jean." Lucien smiled, hoping and silently willing her to explain how she was feeling without him having to ask.

"Bacon and eggs alright for breakfast?"

"Yes, sounds lovely. Thank you Jean." He followed her into the kitchen, sitting down at the table. "So, you're feeling better?"

"Yes, much better." She replied, getting out the bacon and eggs from the fridge. _Please don't keep asking me… I don't think I could cope. He's been so good to me… I'd be spilling out how I really feel… why did I decide to get up?_

As much as he wanted to argue that she didn't look all that much better he wisely refrained. "Well that's good then." He told her, "Still, take some Aspirin, or even Bex at least once a day."

"What on earth for?" She asked, cracking the eggs into the pan.

Lucien shrugged, "Well if nothing else, to keep it at bay and prevent it from recurring or getting worse."

Jean didn't reply, busying herself with preparing his breakfast. "So, what kept you out all day yesterday?" She eventually asked.

"Oh this poor young woman found cruelly and sadistically beaten out on the Hamilton Road."

"Dead?"

Lucien nodded. "Yes."

"Oh the poor girl."

"Yes, let me tell you Jean, she suffered horribly."

He proceeded to catch her up on the case, leaving out the most gory details. Normally Jean wasn't over bothered by this (despite her claims to the contrary), but in her somewhat weakened state (oh how he'd cop a hiding if Jean even knew he was thinking along these lines), she probably did not want to hear the ins and outs of her injuries.

"Who do you think did it?" Jean asked, quickly massaging her temples while Lucien was not looking at her. She knew he wasn't fooling him, not really, but she wanted to pretend that she was.

"It could be a number of people really." He said, and unfortunately this was sadly true. The young girl had kept some rather suspect company and had grown up in far from ideal circumstances which ultimately left her dealing with multiple problems in her short life.

"Is there a prime suspect?"

"Yes, her brother."

Jean looked at him in astonishment. "Her brother?"

"Yes."

"What sort of brother would do that to his own sister?"

Lucien nodded in agreement. "Yes I know, but not every family looks out for each other no matter what. Some families are err… dysfunctional. Just not like most."

Jean shrugged dejectedly, thinking of both recent events and those that had occurred years ago, her head aching in more ways than one. _How had it gone so wrong with Jack?_ "That's true."

Lucien watched her sadly. He had guessed where her musings had just taken her to. His hand found hers almost without him even realising. "You know I wasn't referring about your family Jean."

She nodded.

"You did everything you could for both your boys. And…" He hesitated before continuing, aware that this matter was still very raw and delicate for his friend. "…everything I saw over the last few days tells me you put family above all else."

 _Damn these tears._ Jean nodded, wanting to turn away so she could hide the few wayward tears that had betrayed her yet again, but was almost hypnotised by the look in his eyes. She saw many things reflected in those blues of his. Their relationship was evolving before her eyes; everything was so different. And it had happened so quickly. She wasn't ready, she wasn't.

"Well I should get on with it. I've got a lot of work to catch up on." She stood up abruptly; almost a little too abruptly.

"Yes, yes of course. You promise you'll keep taking the tablets if you need to?"

Jean rolled her eyes. "Yes, Lucien. Now I must get on." She snapped in irritation, verging on both petulant and prickly…

Back in the here and now, Lucien sighed. Something happened in that conversation, he wasn't sure what, but if he could pinpoint anything, that was the moment things changed, and not for the better.

"You got anything better to do than watch me like a hawk?" Jean all but shouted in exasperation, walking away before he had a chance to respond.

If only he knew what was wrong. All he knew was that he had to fix it before everything fell apart.

* * *

 _ ***L &J***_

In the relative privacy of the back-garden, (she assumed he wouldn't follow her… at least not right away), Jean allowed herself to relax her tense and upright posture. Let go of all the façade and pretence. Her shoulders slumped and her headache was back with a vengeance.

Jean hadn't been lying to her boss when she said she felt better several days earlier. Compared to when her migraine was at its peak, her poor head had felt some relief, not 100% by any means, but better. But it had returned, and was worse than ever. She probably deserved it too.

She knew she wasn't being at all fair to Lucien. All he was doing was looking out for her, just like he always had done. She also knew she was probably scaring the hell out of him with worry because of her recent behaviour. But she couldn't stop it, she didn't really know why she was being so rude to him; why she was pushing him away. He was being so kind, so nice, so caring to her, and she was throwing it back in his face. Why couldn't she stop being so ghastly?

 _I'm so sorry Lucien. I wish I knew what was wrong, and how to stop it…_

* * *

 _ ***L &J***_

Lucien was left shocked, dazed, confused, and stunned all at once. Perhaps a smidge angry too, oh alright, more than a little miffed. What the hell was going on with his dear friend. This just wasn't his Jean. He could not for the life of him work it out, it was driving him crazy. He was extremely worried and concerned about Jean. Something was troubling her – emotionally, physically, medically. Quite possibly a combination of all three.

He had to figure it out; he just had to. For Jean first and foremost, but also for himself. The more he thought about it, (and he thought about it for an indeterminate and an ever-increasing amount of time each day), the more he suspected her moody behaviour was due to some medical issue. What, he couldn't be sure, but the doctor's mind had a gut feeling that medically something was definitely amiss with Jean, and that scared him to no end.

Lucien decided to go and find her. He glanced down at his watch and figured he had given her enough space. Still, this decision might result in him getting his head bitten off yet again, but he had to make sure she was alright. What was one more snarky remark?

In this rather large house, there were a number of places she could have gone. His intuition leaned heavily towards three areas: her bedroom, the sunroom and the back-garden. He mulled through the options quickly, deciding to head in the direction of the sunroom – he could kill two birds with one stone so to speak – he'd be able to check both the sunroom and back-garden.

No luck in the sunroom. He paused for a moment to admire the vast collection of flowerpots and gardenia. No doubt about it, she was one hell of a talented gardener. So many colours and varieties. Lucien knew nothing about gardening, and to be honest, he had never had much interest, well up until recently.

He saw something out of the corner of his eye. Jean was sitting on the white outdoor lounge recliner, well more accurately lying back on it. She looked lost in thought. She seemed sad… come to think about it he'd hardly seen her smile – her beautiful smile – since the whole fiasco with young Jack.

Lucien watched her in quiet admiration for a little longer before almost cautiously walking over to her. Her eyes were closed, but he knew she wasn't asleep, dozing maybe, but not sleeping. (Although she probably needed a good sleep… he highly doubted she was getting a proper rest if that migraine was persisting and she wasn't looking after herself properly.)

"I should give the lawn a good going over."

"Oh, hello Lucien." Jean's eyes opened, glancing at Lucien briefly before turning her attention to the afore mentioned lawn. He was right, the grass did need cutting.

"Since when do you cut the grass?" She quipped, a small smile breaking through.

Lucien smiled back, relieved she was in a friendly and approachable mood. "Yes, quite."

"Do you want me to call Joe?" Joe was their occasional handyman, he did the jobs that Lucien was either unwilling to do, or completely useless at doing.

"Yes, that would be for the best I think."

"Righto, I'll do that then." Jean told him, making a mental note, adding it to her seemingly never-ending stockpile of "things to do" list. She supposed this was what a housekeeper's role entailed, but it was wearing her down a bit lately. Lucien didn't seem to mind – he was being very patient with her, of which she was both irked by and was immensely thankful for at the same time. She blamed this on her blasted headache – she refused to admit it was still a migraine – and everything else that was going on with her youngest boy. Speaking of, where was he?

"Are you alright Jean?"

This brought Jean out of her musings for the second time in the last five minutes. He had a habit of doing that, especially of late. She was relieved for a break in her thoughts, they seemed to be all over the place and this was unnerving.

"Jean?"

She shrugged. "I'm fine."

The doctor sighed internally. He wasn't sure how much longer he would allow her to keep lying to them both like she was. He knew that she was far from "fine." And as much as he imagined she didn't want to admit it, he recognised that she was aware that he knew. If she wasn't grouching at him she looked like she was about to burst into tears (and assumed she did when no one was looking). Often it looked like she was fighting both emotions at once.

Her adorable blue-green eyes looked somewhat wistful now. "Are you sure you're okay Jean?"

Oh, how she wished he would stop being so nice, so concerned about her. It made her feel even more guilty about her simply awful behaviour towards him over the last few days. Oh, why had she turned so nasty?

Lucien hated seeing her like this, he couldn't bear it. He wished he would talk to her, tell him what was going on inside that beautiful, insightful mind of hers. He put a tentative hand on her shoulder. "Jean?" _Please?_

Jean looked up at him. Her expressive eyes showed… well he could only describe it as confusion. Her words confirmed said confusion. "What is it Lucien?"

"Is everything alright?"

Was it? No, of course it wasn't. Jean desperately wanted to tell him, but she didn't know how. She was afraid the words would come out in a jumbled mess that wouldn't be of any use to anyone. She couldn't get her thoughts to make sense to her, so what hope did he have? No, she'd have to carry on as she always did. In true Jean Beazley fashion.

She nodded.

"Jean." Lucien gently chastised her. She knew he didn't believe her.

"It's nothing, I'm just a bit tired that's all." She relented. That was about all she could, or would tell him right now. "I'm sorry if I was a bit short with you earlier."

Lucien brushed her apology off. "No matter."

Jean shook her head. "Yes it does. I've been beastly lately, I'm sorry."

He shrugged. "Well, I wouldn't say beastly, but you haven't been yourself."

She nodded, turning away from him, embarrassed by both her behaviour and her wayward tears.

"Will you let me help?" He asked. "God knows you've helped me with enough of my problems, I should return the favour."

"I should go and call Joe." Jean started to head back inside.

Lucien stopped her. "That can wait. I'm worried about you Jean. Please tell me what's going on?"

 _Please don't be…_ "There's no need…" She started to say,

"No need? No need?" Lucien replied, his composure finally cracking. "You've been moody and snapping at everyone for no good reason for too long now. And I know that migraine is still bothering you, don't try to deny it. So don't go telling me there's no need! Bloody hell Jean!"

* * *

 _ ***L &J***_

Jean lay wide awake in the darkness. She knew that she pushed Lucien too far; he hardly ever raised his voice towards her. In fact, come to think of it, had he ever? Well, at least until that afternoon he hadn't.

She knew she had to apologise… again. She seemed to be going around in circles – be a complete and utter cow (usually to poor Lucien, but her short-temperedness wasn't choosy), apologise and cry (those these last two often swapped over, there wasn't a consistent pattern) – then start the cycle all over again.

Part of Jean didn't understand why Lucien got so cross, but a bigger part of her did. Well, at least, she thought she did. Her head hurt too much for all this contemplating. She seemed to be aching everywhere, but it was her throbbing headache that was causing her the most pain. It was, both literally and metaphorically, doing her head in.

Her thoughts drifted back to Lucien, her eyes filling up with tears as she remembered his kindness and how awful she had been. There was also a vague feeling of being held in his arms and how wonderful it had felt… oh how she would love to be held by him right now… Not that she deserved it of course.

It must have been a dream though…

She wanted to be looked after for once. It was time to admit, to herself if nothing else, that she was sick.

Jean held onto her pillow, her tears running down rapidly now.

* * *

 ***L &J* **

Lucien was dozing when something disturbed him from his light slumber. Somewhat disoriented, he fumbled for the switch on his bedside lamp.

Jean was sitting on the chair near his bed.

"Jean. Was I yelling again?" He asked, he knew he often woke Jean or Mattie in the dark hours with his night terrors. "I'm sorry."

She shook her head. "Jean?"

He took a closer look at her. Now, he was more awake he could see something was troubling her; hell, Blind Freddie would. For someone who prided herself on both her pride and impeccable appearance (even in nightclothes), seeing her look so unkempt was highly unusual. Her curls were a mess – a cute mess – but a mess nonetheless; she obviously hadn't bothered with that hairnet she usually wore tonight. And she was crying, well sobbing would be more accurate. She kept her gaze away from his, eyes downcast.

Lucien was noting all this with growing concern. Her lack of composure was so out of character. He got out of bed and went over to her, putting a hand onto her shoulder, massaging it tenderly. "What's wrong Jean?"

She looked up, her blue-green eyes full of tears. "Make it stop." She mumbled, in-between sobs, "Please, make it stop."

 **TBC…**

 **A/N: A bit of a long one, sorry. :)**

 **Thanks for reading. Thoughts?**


	7. Chapter 7

**TITLE:** Home 7/?

 **AUTHOR:** Kylie (kyliesmilie26)

 **SUMMARY:** See Chapter 1

 **NOTES:** Sorry for the delay in getting this update up. This is much more normal for the Muse…

Again my sincere thanks to all who are taking the time to read and/or leave a review on my first attempt at a DBM fic. I cannot believe the response to this little story, this would have to be my most popular one going by reviews… The DBM fandom is simply the best, thank you. xo

Read on, and I hope you continue to enjoy… although perhaps enjoy isn't the right word. You might just kill me for what you're about to read…

Can you tell I'm nervous about this?

* * *

 _ ***L &J* **_

Lucien watched his Jean sleeping fitfully, his baby blue eyes full of worry. Okay, perhaps she wasn't technically _his_ , but that was simply a matter of semantics… and hopefully a little more time. She hadn't protested when he told her that she would be sleeping in his room tonight, (it was the easiest thing to do, given the hour, and it was closer to his surgery should he need to duck in there for something). This spoke volumes to the doctor; his Jean was desperately unwell. This scared him to no end.

A quick glance at his bedside clock told him it was after 2 in the morning, but he knew he wouldn't be sleeping any time soon. If he didn't sleep tonight, it would be by no means his first sleepless night. He had had plenty of them in the last 20 odd years; too many to count.

He shook himself away from this line of thought. He needed all of his time, energy and attention on the dear woman sleeping beside him. For Jean to come to him in the middle of the night, she had to be in pure and utter agony. The migraine must have become simply too unbearable for her to suffer in silence. _My dear, sweet, strong Jean._ He desperately wanted to tell her that there was no need for her to have to cope with something like this on her own. He would do anything for her, didn't she know that? But of course, he couldn't say such things to her, not yet. He could barely voice them to himself for the moment. _One day, one day he would tell her._

Lucien wondered if there was more to Jean's illness than just a bad migraine. On one hand, she had been ignoring her symptoms for several days, which certainly had not helped her, but even so, it should have at least begun to ease by now. There were other things that added to his worry, her irritation and mood swings, and, of most concern, a growing confusion. He reasoned that these could be all explained by the migraine, but something was making him suspect that there was something possibly more sinister at play…

* * *

 _ ***L &J***_

 _He took a closer look at her. Now, he was more awake he could see something was troubling her; hell, Blind Freddie would. For someone who prided herself on both her pride and impeccable appearance (even in nightclothes), seeing her look so unkempt was highly unusual. Her curls were a mess – a cute mess – but a mess nonetheless; she obviously hadn't bothered with that hairnet she usually wore tonight. And she was crying, well sobbing would be more accurate. She kept her gaze away from his, eyes downcast._

 _Lucien was noting all this with growing concern. Her lack of composure was so out of character. He got out of bed and went over to her, putting a hand onto her shoulder, massaging it tenderly. "What's wrong Jean?"_

 _She looked up, her blue-green eyes full of tears. "Make it stop." She mumbled, in-between sobs, "Please, make it stop..."_

She had fallen into his arms then, unable to hold herself anymore. Her independence had taken a backseat to her more immediate need for his strength. While her head was throbbing excruciatingly (and everywhere else seemingly hurt in sympathy too), the only coherent thought she had was that he would make it better. He was a doctor, he'd make it all better. She didn't care that she was sobbing like a child, she only needed his strong arms around her to keep her from falling.

Lucien held her close, his hands massaging her back in gentle, soothing motions. "Ssh. I've got you, we'll figure this out."

"It hurts, it hurts." She moaned, hiding her head in his chest in an attempt to block out the dim light from the lamp, to her it was as bright as a torch being shone directly into her eyes or looking up into the sun.

"Ssh, it'll be okay." He continued to hold her, his hands repeating the gentle massaging on her back.

"It hurts, make it stop. Please, make it stop. It hurts, it hurts." It seemed to be the only thing Jean could get out in her current state.

His heart shattered for the second, (or was that third?), time in minutes at her obvious distress. As much as he loved having her in his embrace, he knew he needed to do what he was trained to do, and that was to get her better.

"Come on Jean, let's get you more comfortable, shall we?"

She moaned something unintelligible at this, and to his surprise, snuggled deeper into his chest.

He slowly stood up, being careful not to disturb an almost dozing Jean too much. He guided her to his bed; the thought that this may not be completely appropriate fleetingly ran through his mind, but his number one priority right now was the woman in his arms, and getting her both comfortable and, preferably resting so she could get rid of that migraine of hers.

She barely raised an eyebrow at being helped into his bed, which told Lucien how much pain she was in. The fact she had complied so readily did nothing to ease his anxiety. He pulled the covers over her. "I'm going to get you some Aspirin… and some Bex," He added, as an afterthought. The pain she was in, it wouldn't hurt to have both.

"Hmmm." Jean mumbled in reply, his words registering somewhere in the depths of her conscious. She was so tired, and her head felt like it was being battered with a blunt instrument repeatedly. The distinct smell of Lucien floated around her, bringing about the smallest of smiles; it made her feel safe despite the throbbing pain.

In a repeat of days earlier, he returned with the medication, a glass of water and a damp cloth. Lucien placed the cloth on her forehead and watched as she swallowed the medicine without complaint. She was soon sound asleep.

Jean's restless sleep brought him back to the here and now, halting his memories of the last few hours.

Watching Jean toss and turn, and mumble incoherently in her sleep, and noting the dark circles and creases around her eyes, made Lucien renew his vow that he would do everything in his power to get to the bottom of what was going on with his best friend, housekeeper, and love. Yes, he could admit it (to himself at least); he loved this woman. Seeing her so unwell made him realise this, it was as clear to him as a brilliant blue sky.

* * *

 _ ***L &J* **_

Lucien awoke to the sound of birds singing. He had always liked to hear magpies warbling their song in the small hours. Dawn was breaking. He stretched, working out the cricks in his neck and back, having fallen asleep awkwardly in his chair.

 _Bloody hell._ He sighed, slightly peeved with himself for falling asleep. He hadn't meant to drift off; he'd been wanting to watch over her during the night, should she have needed him.

Beside him Jean was still sound asleep, and in the early daylight, he could see how pale she was, those dark shadows under her eyes even more prominent. Even in her sleep her could tell that she was still suffering. Lucien hoped that she at least was getting some relief from the pain that her migraine was causing.

He looked at the clock, and realised that she was due for some more medicine when she woke. He briefly contemplated waking her so she could take it, but quickly decided against it, figuring that allowing her to sleep was probably the best medicine of all for the time being.

His stomach grumbled, sounding rather loud to his ears in the otherwise very quiet house. It was then he realised that he could do with something to eat. His eyes again returned to the prone woman on the bed beside him; seeing her sleeping so deeply he decided he could go and fix a light breakfast.

Ten minutes or so later he returned with toast and a cup of tea – (something even he, being completely useless in the kitchen, could prepare) – breaking Jean's rule of eating only at the table.

Lucien suddenly thought of the young woman's murder he had helped solve two days ago… he vehemently hoped he would not be called in today, and for the next few days. Alice could take over for a few days, surely? Getting Jean well took precedence over all other matters as far as he was concerned.

She stirred then, moaning loudly, and shifted her head so it was under the pillow.

In spite of the situation he smiled at the childlike behaviour of a sleeping Jean. The doctor found it adorable, just like her in general really _._

Meanwhile, Jean slowly opened her eyes from under the pillow, disoriented. It didn't feel like her bed, but she didn't particularly care. Could someone shoot her already? When would the pain stop?

The smell of toast and tea wafted over to her and it made her stomach lurch. _Ugh._ She did not need to be physically sick on top of everything else. A hand flew to her mouth, hoping to keep it at bay.

After a few minutes the feeling had subsided. Jean knew that there was someone with her in the room, and vaguely recalled waking Lucien. Or was that a dream?

She slowly creeped her head out from under the pillow.

Lucien was sitting in the chair beside the bed and was looking at her worriedly, yet with a lovely smile adorning his handsome features. "Good morning, how are you feeling?"

"Hmmm, head hurts." Where was her word filter? It had completely escaped her in the last few hours. By the same token, she couldn't care less if he did know exactly how she was feeling. She was well and truly over this migraine; she just wanted to feel better and not all fuzzy in the head. Was that too much to ask? She closed her eyes to both block out the emerging sunlight and in an effort to block out the pain.

Lucien shook his head in sympathy. "I know, Jean, it must be awful." He replied, "Don't you worry, we'll get you better."

Jean glanced up at him then. "You promise?"

He couldn't stop himself from tenderly brushing some of her dark curly tendrils away from her face, hoping somewhat irrationally that this would soothe away the pain. "I promise."

Jean sighed audibly at his cool, gentle touch. Could he keep it there forever? Or at least until the migraine subsided?

Lucien looked down at his half-eaten breakfast and wondered how long it had been since Jean had eaten. She probably wouldn't want it, but he knew she had to have something to both keep her strength up and so she could take the medication. While you could have Aspirin and Bex with an empty stomach, it was better to have had something.

"Do you want some breakfast?"

His housekeeper clearly groaned, and burrowed underneath the blanket in response.

 _Oh my poor Jean._ "Jean, you need to eat something." He told her compassionately.

Jean mumbled something indistinctive from under the covers.

"Jean?"

Again, an indistinctive muttered groan came from underneath his duvet.

Lucien sent a silent apology, (and prayer), to a deity he lost faith in at a young age before gently easing the blankets away.

"Lucien." Jean grumbled, not sounding dissimilar to a small child. "Feel sick."

That didn't surprise him, it wasn't uncommon for migraine sufferers to feel nauseous. Sometimes, this actually helped them to get rid of the migraine… once they had been sick, the migraine soon started to ease.

He sighed, and relented. As much as he would have preferred her to have at least had one piece of toast, he did not want her feeling even worse if he could help it.

"Alright." He acquiesced, "How about a cuppa?"

"Mmm, okay." She eventually agreed, but did not want to move from her spot lying prone on his bed, her head resting comfortably on his soft pillow. She was more than happy where she was. What she really wanted was to fall back into the dark abyss where she didn't feel the unbearably agonising pain. Well, not quite as much anyway.

Lucien could see how close Jean was to drifting back into sleep and knew he had to get both some fluids and the tablets into her system before she did.

"Come on Jean, time for some tea, and the tablets."

"Mmhmm." She mumbled sleepily.

Lucien smiled at how adorably childlike she was being. "Alright Mrs Beazley, let's get you sitting up eh?" He then put his arms under her back and lifted her up gently, placing an extra pillow underneath her for extra support and elevation.

When he was satisfied that she was relatively comfortable, he poured her a fresh cup from the teapot and handed it to her. Given how close she was to nodding off, he helped her hold the cup by resting his hands over hers, guiding her into holding it.

He watched her take a tentative sip, having to bring her head down a little to meet the cup from where it was in her hands. She sighed, a content sigh this time, as the sweet tea, (minus the milk given her nausea), went down.

Lucien then placed the Aspirin and Bex into her hand for her to take. He was quite content to merely watch her slowly sip her tea, and was fascinated as she tried to fight sleep so she could finish it. He had come to the conclusion that Jean Beazley was rather adorably childish when she was ill.

Jean was fast losing her battle to stay awake so he carefully pried the china cup out of her hands.

"Mmm thank you Lucien." She murmured.

"It was no trouble." He replied, "You rest now." _And get better soon. I hate seeing you like this, despite how cute you are when you're sick._

* * *

 _ ***L &J***_

Lucien saw the last of his afternoon patients out. Thankfully, today's surgery had been relatively quiet, which had meant he could pop into his bedroom to check on his priority patient (he hoped all his other patients would understand should they ever guess this line of thought) when he had a free moment. She was asleep every time he'd gone in, which he reasoned was the best thing to help her migraine subside. While she wasn't exactly sleeping peacefully – it was fitful at best – it was a deep sleep.

She hadn't liked being woken a few hours earlier to have some more fluids and medication. He loathed to wake her, but needs must where her health was concerned. He could not bear seeing her in so much pain, even as a doctor, someone best qualified to help with an ailment; he felt helpless watching her suffering as she was.

Lucien had been even more relieved to not hear from Lawson or young Charlie. He rather enjoyed gallivanting over the Ballarat countryside, and being a damn nuisance to Lawson and company, but he needed to tend to his Jean. Heaven knows she had done more than enough for him in the eighteen months he'd been back in Ballarat. This was the least he could do; part of him felt good he could help her, or try to at any rate.

He suddenly heard the front door. Mattie must be home from Melbourne.

"Hello, anyone home?" He heard her call out into the empty passage.

From his vantage point at the entrance of his surgery, he watched as she stopped at his bedroom door.

"Lucien?" She called, shock and bewilderment evident in her tone. "What on earth is going on?"

"Hello Mattie, how was your trip?" He asked, as he came out of his study.

"Fine." She brushed him off, "Why is Jean sleeping in your bed?" Her eyes depicted a plain suspicion. "What's going on?"

She sounded like a mother who had caught her teenage daughter with a boy in her bedroom.

"Jean's not well." Lucien said simply.

"Not well?" Mattie hastily turned to look at a sleeping Jean.

Lucien shook his head sadly. "A rather nasty migraine."

"Poor Jean."

"How long has she been unwell?"

Lucien hesitated momentarily at this question.

"Lucien, how long?"

He sighed, "Since you left."

Mattie stared at him in surprise. "And you didn't think to call me?" She asked, a little hurt and upset to know that Jean had been suffering and she could've been helping instead of relaxing at home in Melbourne.

Lucien shrugged. "You know how stubborn Jean is. She's been trying to fight it on her own. Stayed in bed the day you left for Melbourne but assured me she was fine the very next day." He walked over to where Mattie stood, now just inside his bedroom. "She clearly wasn't, but like I said, you know how fiercely independent she is."

"Poor Jean."

The doctor nodded. "I found her by my bed in the early hours of this morning."

Mattie nodded in understanding. "She must have been absolutely miserable to have done that."

He nodded again.

"What can I do?" Mattie asked, like Lucien, she had to do something to help her friend and substitute mother.

* * *

 ***L &J* **

_Several days later_

She kept hearing distant, faded voices somewhere around her. She couldn't really make out the words, but every so often the pain she sensed coming from the owner of the voice stood out with clarity. That's when her eyes opened and he was always there, his soothing, yet worried voice asking her questions she didn't understand. All she knew was that her head was hurting in a way it had never hurt before, it could have been made out of lead for how heavy it felt. She was feeling so woolly, fuzzy that it left her head spinning and it was if she were in a deep fog. Or was it the spinning that made her feel so vague? Ugh. Stop thinking. Now.

* * *

 _ ***L &J***_

Lucien was well and truly past any thoughts of impropriety; he had taken permanent residence beside her on his bed, watching over her day and night. If he had been worried when she first came to him in the middle of the night, he was absolutely wild with panic now. He couldn't believe how much Jean had seemingly deteriorated in those few days. The migraine not improving appeared to be the least of her, (and his), worries. She was near delirious, but did not have a fever. She had given into her nausea days ago, and was physically ill almost every time she woke, yet it had not eased her migraine at all.

He was at a loss. The only thing he was certain of was that there was definitely more to Jean's illness than just a migraine. There had to be given her lack of improvement under his, and Mattie's expert care. They had taken turns to be by Jean's bedside, trying to nurse her back to health. And even without medical intervention, a migraine eventually passed on its own.

Watching her in the throes of her delirium made him wonder for the umpteenth time whether he should admit her to hospital. He always dismissed it, primarily because he didn't think they could do anymore for her than he was, but also because he knew Jean disliked hospitals with a passion. She didn't even like going there to visit a friend or family member – however she did go without hesitation every time.

He sighed in despair as she again muttered incoherently about Jack and how he didn't do it and that they needed to help him. Her subconscious was obviously still processing the whirlwind of emotions it had gone through when Jack. All he could do was pull her into his arms, tell her that it was alright, he knew he hadn't done it and that the police knew too.

He held her as much as he could, hoping to give her his strength to come out the other side, and that she would know he was here.

He looked down at her beautiful face, still beautiful no matter how pale and waxen it was at present. Her blue-green eyes were open, confusion breaking through amongst the lack of focus that was also apparent.

"Lucien?" She murmured, so soft he wasn't quite sure he didn't imagine it.

"What is it Jean?" He asked, his voice full of both fear and compassion.

"It hurts, why does it hurt?" Her voice so small and unsure.

He kissed her forehead, something he had taken to doing as she had begun to fade into another world and lose her grip on the here and now.

"I know it does Jean, I know."

"I hurt my wrist, not my head." She whined, not able to make any connection between her scattered memories and reality.

He offered her a sad smile, "Yes you did, that's all better now." That was true, her wrist had healed nicely.

"It hurts. Feel sick." Her eyes closed as she slipped into another restless, deep slumber.

 _Come on Jean, you need to pull through this. I need the Jean I know and love back._

 _ **TBC…**_

Thanks for reading. Thoughts?

 **A/N: I'm no medical expert, take anything medical in this chapter (and the next), with a grain of salt. A creative licence if you will.**

 _ **Wishing you all a wonderful Christmas! xo**_


	8. Chapter 8

**TITLE:** Home 8/?

 **AUTHOR:** Kylie (kyliesmilie26)

 **SUMMARY:** See Chapter 1

 **NOTES:** Sorry for the delay in getting this update up. Hope the wait is worth it!

My sincere thanks to all who are taking the time to read and/or leave a review on my first attempt at a DBM fic. Whether you have read from the beginning, or stumbled across this now, or at any time in between, thank you! It means so much to receive your reviews. xoxo

An extra special shout-out and thank you to the lovely _**missouiser**_. I'll provide an explanation at the conclusion of the chapter. But for now, I'll simply say, thank you, and I'm very grateful for your insights. :)

As usual, the Muse likes to draw it all out… sorry if it seems err, bogged down with inconsequential detail.

Enjoy xo :)

* * *

 _ ***L &J* **_

_**Previously on Home…**_

" _Lucien?" She murmured, so soft he wasn't quite sure he didn't imagine it._

" _What is it Jean?" He asked, his voice full of both fear and compassion._

" _It hurts, why does it hurt?" Her voice so small and unsure._

 _He kissed her forehead, something he had taken to doing as she had begun to fade into another world and lose her grip on the here and now._

" _I know it does Jean, I know."_

" _I hurt my wrist, not my head." She whined, not able to make any connection between her scattered memories and reality._

 _He offered her a sad smile, "Yes you did, that's all better now." That was true, her wrist had healed nicely._

" _It hurts. Feel sick." Her eyes closed as she slipped into another restless, deep slumber._

 _Come on Jean, you need to pull through this. I need the Jean I know and love back._

* * *

 _ ***L &J***_

"How is she?"

Lucien was brought out from his depressing musings at the sound of Mattie's soft voice. She had, completely unbeknownst to Lucien, walked into his bedroom. He had been so wholly focussed on watching over and keeping a close eye on Jean, (yet again; he'd lost count how often he had done so in the past few days), that he hadn't heard her tiptoe in.

Mattie knew Jean wasn't improving. If anything, she was getting worse. She didn't need to be a fully trained nurse to see the deterioration in her dear friend since her return from Melbourne two days ago. Jean was fast losing any coherent thought, and was sleeping so deeply it verged on unconsciousness. Put simply, it was getting more difficult to rouse Jean, and she didn't stay awake for very long.

She worried for Lucien too. Jean's illness was taking its toll on the normally unflappable doctor. Well, unflappable in terms of detecting anything concerning the medical welfare of his patients; she couldn't say his temper was though! She knew he wasn't taking proper care of himself since Jean had come to him several nights earlier; not eating or sleeping properly. One thing that did concern her was that he had not touched his whiskey since she'd been back home. Whilst no doubt this was doing wonders for his liver, Lucien not indulging at all was not good. It spoke volumes to the young nurse.

The thing that concerned Mattie most though was Lucien's reluctance to admit Jean to hospital. Or, more truthfully, his downright stubbornness for anyone else to take care of her. It was almost as if the highly skilled Doctor Blake was in denial about just how ill Jean was. She had to make him see sense. There were tests that could be done at the hospital that Lucien could not do here at home, despite it being equipped with a vast range of medical supplies and equipment. However, these supplies were for your typical country general practice, not an emergency or a serious medical problem that could well be life-threatening like Jean's.

Mattie had to get Lucien to realise that Jean needed more urgent care, (not more expert care… just a higher level than what they could provide at home), because Jean should have shown some signs of her migraine improving by now. Hmm, maybe her suspicion about Lucien not wanting to admit to himself how desperately serious Jean's illness was, was spot on. The fact that it came on so suddenly probably did not help his denial.

Lucien shook his head. "She's not good Mattie. It's got me stumped, if it were merely a migraine the medication should have helped ease it by now." He finally answered her, this time causing her to be the one snapped out of her thoughts.

"So, you're thinking it could be more than a migraine?" She asked, maybe this wasn't going to be as difficult as she thought.

He shrugged, those blue eyes of his emanating a deep worry. They did nothing to hide his emotions. Mattie had never seen him so anxious and worried about someone before. He was a very skilled and passionate doctor who went above and beyond for his patients, but what she'd witnessed him do for Jean went to another level again. His dedication to nursing her knew no bounds. If his feelings for his housekeeper weren't obvious to Mattie before she left for Melbourne, they most certainly were now. _Get back to the matter at hand Matilda._

Lucien, for his part, baulked at Mattie's question. Deep down, he knew there could be something very seriously wrong with Jean. A migraine as bad as hers lasting as long as it had, combined with the more worrying newer symptoms only made him think that whatever was going on couldn't be good. It could be anything from a subdural hematoma to cerebral edema, or the most serious, a brain tumour or aneurysm; none of these things were what one would call a pleasing diagnosis. Anything to do with the head or brain was potentially life-threatening. He did not want to believe that she could possibly have any of the afore-mentioned illnesses… Jean Beazley just did not get sick. End of story.

But there again, here she was, lying so still in his bed, no better than two days previously.

"Lucien?" He had his eyes glued on the ill woman in the bed again. Mattie sighed, she couldn't blame him really. It was so unlike Jean to be unwell, let alone as still as she was.

"Hmm?" He mumbled, as she watched him tenderly brush her dark curls away from her closed eyes.

"We really should get her to the hospital."

If the doctor heard her he ignored it.

Mattie audibly sighed then. She was starting to get a trifle vexed at Lucien, even though she knew how worried he was about Jean. "We both know she hasn't shown any signs of improving, if anything she's worse." She sat down beside him on the bed, tentatively putting a hand over his free hand (his other hand was holding onto Jean's), "She's not getting any better despite our best efforts, it's time to get her into hospital so they can find out what's going on. At the very least, they can put her on an IV drip to keep her hydrated, she must be suffering from dehydration. And we both know that does not help a headache, let alone a migraine. And most importantly, get her well again." _I hope._

Was that a tear? Oh hell, she hadn't meant to make him cry. She hadn't yelled at him, had she? No, of course she hadn't. She hadn't made audible her last thought, had she? Perhaps, this was more likely. In the end, she reasoned he was just running on sheer adrenaline and was stressed to his limits.

Lucien nodded. Maybe it was time he allowed himself to voice his most inner fears regarding his Jean's health and admit defeat. That he could no longer look after her the way he wanted and, of even more significance, could not allow her to suffer like she was a moment longer.

He was about to tell Mattie to grab his keys when he noticed something. Why on earth hadn't he noticed that before?

* * *

 _ ***L &J***_

Lucien stared at her pale, fragile form on the bed. He so wanted to touch her, yet something was holding him back. Truth be told, she didn't look much different to when she was in his bed an hour earlier, but here in the bed in casualty it truly hit home just how serious this was. It made it seem real, so very real, that his Jean was very seriously ill, and despite his best efforts he couldn't make her better. He had failed her. He had promised her he would, and he had not lived up to that promise.

After all the rush in getting her here and the various hospital staff who had been in to ask the obligatory questions, and perform the standard tests; checking pulse, temperature, blood pressure and hooking her up to an IV drip – for this very moment it was just the two of them in the closed off cubicle. Mattie had gone to ask Alice if she could hold the fort indefinitely, and then notify the station that Lucien would be unavailable; well at least until they knew more. There was no way he was going anywhere, he was staying with her.

She had woken up briefly in the hour or so they had been at the hospital. Or, more to the point, Dr Alexander Forsyth had coaxed her from her sleep. Dr Forsyth was the hospital's most prominent specialist in neuroscience, and Lucien had requested him upon their arrival after explaining Jean's symptoms to the emergency nursing staff. He thanked his lucky stars he was on duty at the time. It had taken a little bit more coaxing to rouse Jean than Lucien would have liked, and he had hated seeing her so confused and frightened when those blue-green eyes opened. He could see the fear in them despite their lack of focus.

"Mmmm, what?" She had mumbled, upon opening her eyes. To say he hadn't been relieved to see her open them would have been a lie.

"WhereamI?" were her next words, blending together to be almost as one.

Dr Forsyth, still had his hand on her shoulder as part of his attempts to rouse her spoke to her, his tone gentle, yet his voice was clear and forthright. "You are in the hospital Mrs Beazley. I am Dr Forsyth."

"Hospital?" Her eyes sluggishly darted around, trying to make sense of her surroundings. "Wanna go home."

Dr Forsyth patted her reassuringly. "Not just yet, Mrs Beazley. We need to work out what's going on, what's causing this rather nasty migraine."

"Mmmm." She moaned, as words came out in a garbled mess. "Head hurts… head hurts. Feel sick. Go home."

"Don't you worry Mrs Beazley. We're going to fix that up as soon as we can."

Jean mumbled something incoherent in response. After a few moments, it became obvious she was wanting us to understand what she was saying as she tried again, her tongue struggling to form the words correctly. He watched as her face turned a sickly greyish green colour, a tell-tale sign she was going to be sick. He motioned to the emicin dish, gesturing to one of the nurses. She grabbed it just in time as his poor Jean heaved and wretched into the bowl.

Lucien could tell she was becoming more agitated, (and not only because she had some errant tears escaping), and moved so she could see him. "It's alright Jean. The doctor wants to do some tests to help us treat you."

He wasn't sure if she entirely understood what he was saying, (or much of what Dr Forsyth had said for that matter), but some of the fear in her eyes disappeared at his words.

"Lucien." She murmured, reaching for him with her right hand. He took it, holding her delicate hand in both of his larger ones. "Don't leave me." She sounded so scared, so vulnerable; not dissimilar to a young child.

"I won't." He assured her, "I promise." And he was determined not to fail her this time.

"Mmmm." She whispered, her voice fading as she again lost her battle to keep her eyes open, as she drifted off. It worried him, (not for the first time), how quickly she fell into such a deep sleep.

He had, (somewhat reluctantly), let go of her hand as they went about setting up the IV and drawing some bloods to rule out any infections.

He was now waiting for Jean to go and have an x-ray. But this was no simple x-ray to determine whether someone had broken a bone in their wrist, this was an x-ray on her brain; one of the most delicate, intricate, and important organs in the human body. It had been decided that Jean needed some fluids into her first as a priority given how little she had had in the last twenty-four hours, before taking her to radiology for the scan.

She had winced, presumably from the pain, when the IV needle was inserted, but remained asleep. As much as he didn't like seeing her in pain, he was both relieved and glad that she was getting some much needed fluids into her system. This bag was almost finished; the level of fluid left in the bag well past the halfway mark. It would take another ten to fifteen minutes for the course to finish being pumped into her veins, and then she'd be wheeled to radiology to undergo the brain x-ray.

He was weary and drained from both a lack of sleep and his deep concern for the beautiful woman lying in the hospital bed. He finally sat down, resting his aching bones in the chair beside the bed. He took the hand that was free of the IV in his. Her hands, like her, were small (he was finding he adored her petite fingers), but they were so very capable, also like their owner.

He gently brought her hand to his lips, placing a tender, loving kiss on her right hand. "I'm so sorry Jean, I'm sorry that I didn't work it out sooner…"

* * *

 _ ***L &J***_

He was about to tell Mattie to grab his keys when he noticed something. Why on earth hadn't he noticed that before? It made the wheels turn over in his brain, and just like that, something clicked. Things started to make sense.

"Mattie, could Jean have bumped her head when that brute knocked her over?"

Mattie thought for a moment, deliberating on this. "I suppose it's possible." She shrugged, "It happened so quickly so I can't be absolutely sure, but yes, she could have." She looked at Lucien quizzically, and saw him staring hard at Jean. "What are you thinking?"

He pointed to the top right hand corner of her forehead, "Do you see that?" He asked.

She took a closer look. It didn't take long for her to spot what Lucien was referring to. On Jean's forehead was a slowly fading, yet still rather prominent bruise combined with a touch of gravel rash.

"Concussion." Mattie said aloud, more of a statement than a question.

Lucien nodded, touching the bruise ever so softly. "Given her symptoms, I think so, yes." At least, he hoped that was all it was… but they both knew there was likely to be more to it than that. He threw off the bedcovers, "Mattie, go and get my keys. We're taking this one to the hospital, now."

Mattie knew better than not to argue. She had a fleeting thought about changing into something more fresh, but she had been wanting Lucien to get Jean to the hospital, and had been trying to persuade him since early yesterday morning. So, she best just get his keys and move it.

Lucien gently picked up a sleeping Jean and took a fleeting moment to revel her being in his arms. For just this one second, he could forget how ill she was, and simply pretend he was carrying her to bed after falling asleep on the couch…

Alas, this wasn't to be. He found himself wishing that he could do this on a more regular basis one day. And hopefully sooner rather than later.

Mattie returned with the keys. In spite of everything she couldn't help but smile at the image before her. If it wasn't for the severity of Jean's illness the picture would be perfect. She made herself stop her rumination. "Did you want me to drive?"

Lucien glanced down at Jean in his arms; she was a slip of a thing but he hadn't quite realised how much of a slip she was. She was tiny, and would have been lucky to weigh much more than 8 stone! 9 stone at best. She probably had lost some weight in the last week given her illness. Weight she could ill afford to lose. He cradled her a little more tightly to him.

"Yes, thank you Mattie."

* * *

 _ ***L &J***_

Someone was doing their best to wake her up, calling out her name; her more formal title, repeatedly. It wasn't a voice she recognised, or so she thought. They could stop shaking her shoulder and rubbing her chest like that too. Because that hurt. Almost as much as her head. But not quite.

She really wanted to stay in this nice, dark, and quiet place. It helped block out some of the pain, and stopped her from thinking. Well, perhaps not so quiet now. Unfortunately though, it seemed as if her body wanted to betray her and she slowly came back to reality, her eyes fluttering open.

Where was she? This didn't look like home. She desperately wanted to close her eyes again and go back where she was.

She surprised herself by being able to get some words out, and words that were apparently able to be understood by some strange man who was looking down at her.

He was almost towering over her. He seemed friendly enough, but she wanted him to stop talking. He may as well have been talking gibberish for how much her head hurt. The word "hospital" seeped into her conscious, causing her to try and take a more closer look at her surroundings.

Her head hurt, and she was somewhere she didn't want to be. She felt like crying and she needed to be sick. A bowl was seemingly instantly at the ready, as she vomited yet again. Oh, when would this end?

Suddenly, she saw a familiar shade of blue. Lucien.

Lucien was here. It would be okay.

She felt herself relaxing a little bit and she reached out, feeling like a little girl again needing some comfort. His hands felt familiar and soothing, and her eyes grew heavy again as she drifted back into the darkness.

* * *

 _ ***L &J***_

There were definite advantages to being a local doctor and district nurse, Mattie thought, as she sat in the tiny cubicle in casualty. In normal circumstances, only immediate family members would be allowed in the emergency wards while patients were being assessed. Yet, here they both were, no doubt in the way given their closeness to the patient in question, but because they both were, in effect, honorary staff members as they had both done some work there at times, they were given unspoken permission to stay.

"She seems so small lying there, doesn't she?"

Lucien nodded absently in agreement, his thoughts clearly elsewhere.

"What do you think is wrong with her?" She asked, somewhat hesitantly.

He shrugged. "Apart from the concussion, goodness knows. There are a range of possible explanations as you well know Mattie."

Mattie nodded, sighing. She got the underlying message; one he didn't really want to put an audible voice to these possibilities, as all were very serious and even life-threatening, and two, she suspected he didn't want to speculate on what might be going on until whatever the diagnosis was, was confirmed. She knew that Lucien was scared; hell they both were.

Her eyes were again drawn to their good friend lying on the bed. _Come on Jean, whatever the heck this is, you have to pull through._ She glanced at Lucien, who was watching Jean intently, his eyes seemingly depicting fear, worry and concern permanently. _I don't think this one will cope without you. I'm not so sure I could either._ She had to stop these dark, depressing thoughts; they weren't helping anyone. But it was hard to remain positive when Jean, the matriarch of their unusual household was so sick, and no one really knew what was wrong with her.

"Alright, it's time to Mrs Beazley down for that x-ray." Nurse Jenny Patterson, ever so cheery announced. Mattie knew Jenny well, and liked her. She was with a serious looking porter who would be responsible for wheeling her to radiology. Jenny gave them a friendly, sympathetic smile. She could see how much this was taking out on both the kind Dr Blake, who was a favourite with all the nurses, and their dear friend and fellow colleague. "Don't worry, I'll take good care of her."

Mattie nodded, "I know you will."

They watched as Jean was temporarily unhooked from the IV drip and taken out of the small room to have, what could be the most important health test of her life. And the outcome could have a dramatic impact on their lives.

 **TBC…**

 **Thanks for reading. Thoughts? :)**

 **A/N: As I mentioned in the notes at the beginning of this chapter, a special thank you to . She gave me some most welcome pointers re the medical side of things, which I'm very grateful for as I hope it is now a little more realistic. Thank you! :)**


	9. Chapter 9

**TITLE:** Home 9/?

 **AUTHOR:** Kylie (kyliesmilie26)

 **SUMMARY:** See Chapter 1

 **NOTES:** Again, my apologies for the very long delay in getting this update up. Hope the wait is worth it! *crosses fingers* I also hope this makes TDBM fandom feel just a smidge better after the sad news that the ABC has pulled the pin on our beloved show.

As usual, the Muse likes to draw it all out; lots of introspection, and probably not much in the way of plot development… that seems to be how the Muse rolls, well for this story anyway! You should get some answers this chapter, and it's probably only going to get more, err… sad (if that's even possible). Thanks for sticking with it guys; it's turned into way more than I ever anticipated when I first sat down to write something based on S2 finale.

My sincere thanks to all who are taking the time to read and/or leave a review on my first attempt at a DBM fic. Whether you have read from the beginning, or stumbled across this now, or at any time in between, thank you! It means so much to receive your reviews. xoxo

Enjoy, I hope – it's probably rusty as hell… xo

* * *

 _ ***L &J* **_

_**Previously on Home…**_

" _Alright, it's time to get Mrs Beazley down for that x-ray." Nurse Jenny Patterson, ever so cheery, announced. Mattie knew Jenny well, and liked her. She was with a serious looking porter who would be responsible for wheeling her to radiology. Jenny gave them a friendly, sympathetic smile. She could see how much this was taking out on both the kind Dr Blake, who was a favourite with all the nurses, and their dear friend and fellow colleague. "Don't worry, I'll take good care of her."_

 _Mattie nodded, "I know you will."_

 _They watched as Jean was temporarily unhooked from the IV drip and taken out of the small room to have, what could be the most important health test of her life. And the outcome could have a dramatic impact on their lives._

* * *

 _ ***L &J***_

Lucien continued to stare at where Jean had been whisked away. Several minutes had passed since she had been taken to have the all important x-ray on her brain. He was both relieved that, finally they should get some answers, and on the flip side, absolutely terrified of what the x-ray might reveal. As a doctor, he was only too aware of what might be causing Jean's symptoms and he dreaded the thought of Jean, his dear, sweet, wonderful Jean having any of them. Not for the first time since she fell ill, (more like the fiftieth if he were to hazard a guess), he felt completely and utterly helpless. He couldn't stand seeing Jean so sick, and any one of the numerous explanations for Jean's sudden illness could be fatal.

He shuddered at that. He couldn't lose her. No, not when he had only just realised that he was in love with her. He'd already lost one love… she just had to pull through.

Mattie watched her landlord sadly. It had been a good five minutes since Jean had gone for her x-ray and he'd barely moved. It was almost like he was paralysed with fear. She had to do something, anything to try and take his mind off what was happening…

"Will it hurt her?"

Lucien looked at Mattie, perplexed.

"The x-ray?" _So much for taking his mind off it, Matilda._

Lucien shook his head, "No, it's a relatively simple scan, despite it being for such a delicate part of the human body. They've come a long way our x-ray machines over the years. Radiography has become much more safe over time." He wasn't sure whether he was saying this to comfort Mattie, or himself. Probably both.

"How long will it take?" Despite being a fully qualified nurse, she didn't really know much about radiography and x-rays, bar the basics she picked up as part of her training. It was a specialised field, and she figured that Lucien, being a doctor, and of more experience than herself, would know at least a little more than she did.

"Not long, no more than fifteen minutes to half an hour." It was going to be the longest fifteen to thirty minutes of his life. Then the wait for the results… He sighed, "Why didn't I realise that she had a probable concussion sooner?"

Mattie touched his arm supportively. "Oh Lucien, you didn't know she'd had taken a knock to the head." She said soothingly, "She suffers from migraine, and because there hadn't been, to your knowledge, a head injury, a bad migraine explained all the symptoms. Especially given she had been doing her darn best to ignore it."

He shrugged. "Maybe, but I'm a doctor and I should have at least suspected something more, even if I didn't know." He paused for a moment. "And I had no idea she suffered from migraine; she'd never told me, so I should have suspected something amiss then."

"You can't blame yourself." Mattie replied.

The doctor shrugged again. "Can't I?"

Mattie sighed, she knew, no matter what she told him, that it was useless. He'd blame himself for Jean's illness, and he'd never forgive himself if… _no, don't go there_. That was _not_ going to happen…

Another nurse poked her head through the curtains of the cubicle. "Doctor Blake, Nurse O'Brien?" She asked, smiling kindly at the pair.

They looked up, "Yes?" Lucien asked, trying his best to return the smile in kind, but not quite being able to do so.

"Mrs Beazley will be admitted into a ward upon her return from radiology." She informed them, "If you would follow me, I can show you the way."

* * *

 _ ***L &J***_

Jean had been settled into her new room, her x-rays taken, and now for the wait for the results. Thankfully, it was a private room – Lucien was adamant that no cost would be spared when it came to ensuring that his Jean could receive the best of care that the Ballarat and District Base Hospital could offer. And if he wasn't satisfied they weren't doing their very best; he'd have no hesitation in sending her to Melbourne. He didn't much care that they were fellow colleagues in his profession in this country town… if they weren't doing what he deemed to be everything possible well, so be it. It wasn't as if he put several of the many doctors in Ballarat noses out of joint before.

He sat himself down in the chair that was closest to her bed, and took her hand in his, encasing hers gently in-between his. She was reconnected to the IV drip, a second bag of fluids working their way through her bloodstream. If it weren't for the fact she was now wearing a hospital gown, hooked up to the IV and looking oh so pale, Lucien could have pretended she was merely dozing on the couch or something.

He could not possibly feel more responsible for how ill she was if he had given her a deadly poison and left her to die. Mattie had meant well earlier, but no amount of platitudes, regardless of the kindness and good intent from whence they came, would make him feel any differently. He should have seen the growing bruise on her forehead, even if it was continually covered by the strands of dark hair that formed her fringe. That was no excuse in his book. And even if there had been no physical signs of a head trauma; he should have done something. Anything.

He glanced down at their entwined hands and his blue eyes caught glimpse of the fading bruises and almost healed grazes from when he had punched the living daylights out of that thug who had had the gall to hurt his Jean. Even worse, the damn brute had seemingly created a massive health scare for his beloved housekeeper. _If I could get my hands on him now…_

Lucien shook his head, trying to clear his mind, and stop himself from going down that path. Getting angry at that… that… man would be no good to anyone, least of all the woman lying on the hospital bed beside him. His mind drifted back to that moment in the sunroom, where she had so tenderly kissed away his pain on each graze, which in turn gave him the confidence to kiss her for the first time. Her lips were so soft, so tender and it was like they moulded perfectly onto his. And the way she had felt in his arms… He smiled at the memory; his heart skipping a beat and his stomach responding in kind with a flip-flop of its own. He returned her gesture from the week before in kind, bringing her hand to his lips and placing loving, affectionate kisses on first her hand, then pushing himself up to where he could reach her the bruise on her forehead; brushing her dark tendrils away to kiss the injured spot tenderly.

Nurse Patterson was about to enter the room when she stopped at the door. She smiled sadly at the sight that greeted her. Jenny didn't know Doctor Blake very well personally, but she knew from the gossip that went around how the other nurses liked and respected him. She could also tell how much he cared for her patient; she could see the myriad of emotions in those crystal clear blue eyes of his, (well… she couldn't help but notice those startling blues; she wasn't blind), and the love mixed with both fear and concern was obvious for anyone to see. Jenny could only hope someone looked at her like that one day. As ill as Mrs Beazley was right now, she was one lucky woman to have someone so devoted to her, especially a second-time round.

"I'm here to do Mrs Beazley's obs." She said, as she fully entered the ward.

The doctor looked round, startled. "Err, oh, yes of course." He hadn't realised that much time had passed since she had been brought into the room. "Did you want me to leave?" He asked, hoping that he didn't need to make himself scarce, merely asking out of politeness only.

Jenny shook her head. "No need Doctor." She replied, her tone both kind and cheery. "I will have to ask you to move for a bit, if that's alright? Just so I can see how she's doing."

He stood up, somewhat reluctantly. "Of course."

Lucien watched as Nurse Patterson went about her task. He was very relieved to find she was extremely capable, and of possibly even more importance, she was both caring and friendly, chatting to Jean as she checked her temperature, pulse, and blood pressure, and explaining to her what she was doing. This was despite the fact that Jean, in all likelihood could not hear nor understand what she was saying.

"Well, good afternoon Mrs Beazley. All settled into your room I see. Between you and me, you've got one of our finest rooms. Aren't you lucky? I'm just going to check a few things alright? Got to make sure my favourite patient is doing well." Jenny proceeded to check her vitals and jotted them down on her chart. "There, all done. I'll be back to check on you again in half an hour."

"And you, doctor… don't go snooping in her chart now, will you?" She warned, keeping a straight face as she left the room.

 _This one could be Jean's personal nurse_ , Lucien mused to himself. He liked her.

He sat back down again, slipping her hand into his again almost without conscious thought. "Just us again, Jean." He said quietly. (Lucien had insisted Mattie go home and get some rest for a few hours; between the two of them, they'd hardly had a night's sleep since Mattie had returned from Melbourne) "She likes to chatter that one, doesn't she? But she is good at her job, and only the best for you, Mrs Beazley."

Lucien wasn't sure why he suddenly felt the need to talk to Jean, rather than just watch her lying in the hospital bed in silence. On some level, he thought, quite possibly irrationally, that it might help her; not to necessarily get better, but if she could hear him, he hoped that it would make her feel safe, and that Jean would know someone was there for her. If nothing else, it distracted him from his chaotic musings and constant worry over Jean… who was fast becoming someone he couldn't live without, and arguably the most important person in his life. He sent silent apologies to his dear late wife and long lost daughter for that notion, but couldn't help think that the nagging thought had at least some element of truth behind it.

"Doctor Blake?" He heard, and turned around to see Dr Forsyth enter Jean's room.

"Doctor Forsyth." Lucien greeted, feeling his heartrate go through the roof as his anxieties seem to crash in around him. "Do you have any news?"

The other doctor was a picture of calm, at least externally – the complete opposite of how Lucien felt, and he supposed, looked. He hoped that this meant either no news, or _"hey relax all, it's only a nasty concussion."_ Deep down, he knew this would not be the case.

Dr Forsyth walked over to the end of Jean's bed to read over her chart. "Has she woken since I last saw her?" He enquired, as he took in the notes written in the folder.

Lucien shook his head, wanting so badly to look anywhere but at the neuro-specialist, but forcing himself to keep his blue eyes focused directly at him. "What are your thoughts Doctor?"

"Alexander, please?" He replied kindly.

Lucien nodded. "Lucien." He responded in kind.

Alexander cleared his throat, preparing himself. No matter how much experience one had, this never got any easier. The fact the family had a deep medical knowledge probably made his job a little worse if anything.

"Well, given the symptoms Mrs Beazley has had over the last few days, and from what I have observed since her admission, I am in little doubt that she is suffering from a grade three concussion."

Lucien nodded, not surprised at this diagnosis. His eyes returned to the woman lying on the bed, oh how he wished she was merely sleeping peacefully at home. _I am so sorry I didn't do something about this sooner._

"Have the results of the brain x-ray come through?" Lucien asked him, his voice betraying his deep fear and worry through its unsteadiness.

Doctor Forsyth nodded. "Given how ill Mrs Beazley is, I asked for the results to be made a high priority. Unfortunately, the news isn't as good as what we hoped."

Lucien's insides turned to jelly, if he felt fearful for Jean before, it had gone up to outlandish proportions now. Yes, his fear had just reached its peak, just when he thought he couldn't possibly be any more worried. His thoughts raced at a million miles an hour; she had an aneurysm, didn't she? Oh, why hadn't he got her here sooner?

"The x-ray showed a cerebral edema, Lucien."

This piece of information stopped those chaotic depressing thoughts in their tracks. "Cerebral edema?"

Alexander nodded, "Yes, in the right lower quadrant of the frontal lobe."

"That makes sense. It's where she sustained her head injury from the fall she had about a week ago."

"I agree." Doctor Forsyth replied.

"She'll need surgery to reduce the swelling won't she?"

The neurospecialist nodded. "Yes, and today."

"How bad does it look?" Lucien asked, not sure he really wanted to know the true extent of the swelling, yet needed to know rather desperately at the same time.

Alexander hesitated, "It is hard to say until I can get her into theatre."

"You must have some idea Alexander."

"You know I can't really know until she's in surgery Lucien." The doctor sighed, he knew how difficult it must be for the country GP. Alexander was aware of how extensive Lucien's education was, which made this all the more difficult for him as a loved one than the norm. "Look, it's not great Lucien, but it could have been worse." He put a hand on Lucien's shoulder as a gesture of support. "Are you her next of kin?"

Lucien shook his head. "No, her son Christopher Junior is. He is based in Adelaide."

"Are you able to call him for his consent to the surgery?"

Lucien nodded. "Of course."

* * *

 _ ***L &J***_

Lucien looked at Jean lying in the bed and his eyes were drawn to her beautiful face; and was again both surprised and saddened at how pale she was, save for those dark circles under her closed eyes. He squeezed Jean's hand gently, and held it just that little bit more tightly. "Don't you worry Jean, I'll call Christopher and let him know. Then we'll get that swelling taken care of and you'll start to feel much better." _I hope…_

How in the bloody hell was he going to break the news to everyone? Least of all Christopher. And as her eldest, he would be the one who had to give consent to Jean having this essential, but highly risky surgery. He needed to do it, and fast.

Finding strength from somewhere he didn't know he had, he got up, kissed Jean on the forehead and promised her he'd be back as quickly as he could. Taking one last look at his housekeeper, friend, and love, he left her room to find a phone.

* * *

 _ ***L &J***_

Where on earth was she?

Why does she feel so… so…. she can't put her finger on it, but she does not feel right.

She's never felt like this before.

The feeling is so hard to describe.

And it hurts to even try.

She just wants to be back in familiar surroundings.

She wants to see those blue eyes she has come to love.

She wants to be back in those arms.

She wants…

Him.

* * *

 _ ***L &J***_

By the time Lucien had made what had to be one of the most difficult and harrowing phone calls of his life, their friends had all arrived and were waiting for him in the waiting room.

To say he was touched would be somewhat of an understatement. To see Matthew, Charlie, Mattie and even Alice there was heart-lifting. They all stood when they spotted him, and went over, anxious for news on Jean's condition.

"Any news doc?" Charlie asked. He could see how this was hurting the police surgeon. It had taken Charlie a while to fully trust Lucien given what he'd been told by the head honchos in Melbourne, but he liked the doc, and respected him. That incident at the stairs of the council building on their first introduction, now forgiven – not forgotten, but Charlie could deal with it. There was something about the relationship between the doc and Jean, he thought. He'd sensed something between them from the small number of interactions he had witnessed and the hearsay he'd heard at the station and in town, and how Lucien had so quickly leapt to the defence of Jean when she'd been knocked over had confirmed in his mind that there was more to their friendship than what they let on.

"Lucien?" Matthew asked, noticing the stricken look on his long-time friend's face.

"What's going on Lucien?" This time it was Mattie's turn to enquire, she was getting more worried and anxious by the second and did not like that almost tormented countenance on his face.

 _How the bloody hell do I tell them?_ Kept rolling around in his troubled thoughts. _For goodness sake Lucien you're a doctor, you've done this sort of thing before!_ It was questionable though whether it had ever been this close to home. No, definitely not.

He sighed, taking a deep breath. "Jean has a grade three concussion."

Alice and Mattie knew this was the most severe form of concussion that could be diagnosed, and to Mattie, this wasn't a surprise. But she also knew, from what she had observed in Jean over the last few days, there was going to be more to it than that.

While the two men didn't know exactly how serious a grade three concussion was, they knew it probably wasn't all that good, considering she was in hospital. And especially from both the look Lucien had currently on his face, and his behaviour over the last week since Jean became ill.

"There's more to it though, isn't there Lucien?" Alice queried, her tone soft. While she often came across as cold and insensitive, she could plainly see how much of an impact Jean's illness was having on her colleague.

He took another deep breath, nodding. "Err, yes. She also has a cerebral edema." Saying it aloud stung. Really stung. It pierced at his already battered heart. He needed a drink. Or five. And a cigarette.

Mattie's heart sunk, _oh no… not good_. She had to tell herself to breathe. It could have been a tumour or aneurysm.

"A what?" Lawson asked, it didn't sound good, whatever it was.

"Cerebral edema. In layman's terms, it is basically swelling of the brain." Alice explained simply, trying not to sound like her usual blunt self.

"Bloody hell." Lawson cried, yet his tone of voice portrayed an element of quiet shock.

Charlie couldn't help but echo that sentiment, at least to himself. Aloud he said, "Jesus, Doc. What can they do to fix it?"

"They can take her into have emergency surgery to relieve the pressure on her brain." Lucien again found his voice, and some of his composure, after having being almost overcome with emotion.

Mattie burst into tears. "Surgery?" She knew surgery was a possibility… but hadn't really wanted to believe Jean would actually need it. Any surgery was risky, but brain surgery… she felt sick.

Lucien wrapped his arms around her in a fatherly embrace, relieved to be able to give someone else some comfort and take his mind off his own misery. "Yes, not the best outcome we would have liked, clearly, but it's the only option Dr Forsyth has. It's the only way to relieve that pressure that has built up on her brain." He rocked her liked a child, "She'll be alright Mattie, we have to believe that."

"When is she having the surgery?" Alice asked.

"As soon as the theatre can be made ready." Lucien paused, looking down at his watch. "So, it should be in the next few hours."

His four friends and colleagues all took pause as everything they'd been told sunk in. This was not the news any of them wanted to hear, but realistically, they all knew – irrespective of their medical knowledge – that the true extent of Jean's sudden illness had to be serious.

"But what about Christopher Doc?" Charlie asked, seemingly out of the blue. "He'd be her next of kin wouldn't he? Don't they need to wait for him?"

"Normally yes, but we got his consent over the phone. She needs this surgery now, and they won't be able to get here until tomorrow morning." Lucien replied.

"Consent over the phone?" Lawson mused, his long fingers stroking his chin, portraying a look of someone deep in thought. "Is that legal?" As soon as he asked it he felt the guilt creep up on his conscious, but he couldn't help it, keeping the law intact was his livelihood.

"It isn't something we normally like to do, but given the circumstances we didn't have much choice." Lucien replied, his shoulders slumping at the thought of Jean, his dear, sweet Jean, needing to have this delicate surgery at all.

Nurse Patterson came out from where she had been standing some discreet distance away to meet them. She had overheard the latter part of their conversation and felt deep pangs of empathy for the forlorn group. When it was as serious a situation as Jean's was, was by far and away the worst part of her vocation.

"Doctor Blake?" She asked, schooling her now well trained nursing skills to maintain a kind and compassionate tone.

They all turned around to see Jean's nurse. "What is it Nurse Patterson?" Lucien asked.

"They're prepping Jean for surgery now." She informed them, "Did you want to go and see her for a few minutes before she goes in?"

There was absolutely no hesitation whatsoever in the police surgeon's reply. "Take me to her." He said, nodding resolutely.

The others sat down in the rather uncomfortable chairs in the waiting room as they watched the nurse and Lucien go to Jean.

 **TBC…**

 **Thanks for reading. Thoughts? :)**


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